


Glitz and Glamour

by kesomon



Series: Infinity Key Saga [4]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Platonic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:57:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8242039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesomon/pseuds/kesomon
Summary: A chance reunion on Nebati-16 throws the TARDIS trio into a whirlwind of adventure, danger, and mystery. Just what is the Katseye diamond, and why is the Larias family mob so keen to kill for it? And with a price on their heads, will Glitz and Mel survive to learn the answer?





	1. The Trio in the TARDIS

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part 1 of a series at first titled Project Gallifrey, and originally Beta'd by the fantastic Emery Board on Teaspoon & An Open Mind. Now I have plans to re-write this fic to better fit an overall plot device for the Infinity Key series, but as I have no idea when that will happen, I am posting this in its original format. Please enjoy!

It was only just dawn in the desert-situated spaceport Denabi on the planet Nebati-16. It was dedicated Nebati-16 for the rather obvious reason that it was the sixteenth planet in that solar system to be colonized. Earth workmanship being what it was, all the Terrans who built the place considered it a testament to the human will to survive that they didn’t all pack up and move to Orion.

Everyone else considered it a typical example of human bloody-minded stubbornness.

Despite the early hour, though, Denabi did a brisk trade. Controlled by what could be considered the local mob, it was the last refuge of the desperate, the wanted, and the dregs of society’s galaxy wide. Only someone with nowhere else to go –or shady business deals to conduct –would go anywhere near the place. Which was, of course, why it was one of the most popular choices for businessmen the universe over.

Shuttles whirred past overhead as they angled in for a landing, or started up their variously powered engines in preparation for takeoff. The hiss of docking clamps and the clank of mechanical parts grinding was almost deafening, but the buzz of the trading post and market not far from the landing pads still managed to drown it out. It was no small wonder that, at that hour in the wee birth of dawn, the wheezing, methodical groan that scraped through the air went unnoticed. Nor was it noticed by the passers-by that, accompanying this sound, a battered old blue box had materialized out of thin air, nestling itself comfortably between the shelter of two stone metal scrap shops, the light on top finally dimming as the noise ceased.

 The door to the so-labeled "Police Public Call Box" clicked and pulled open inward, and a man stepped from its interior, casting a momentarily wary look about the area before beaming brightly and glancing back into the blue box.

"S'alright, come on out you two! Nothing harm-intending to gnaw your ankles off; _Well_ , nothing nearby anyways."

The man shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Anyone looking at him would have said he was a fairly ordinary Terran, even if his taste in clothes were slightly unusual.

Appearances were deceptive, however; the Doctor was anything but human – in fact, he held the undesired title of being the last Time Lord from the planet of Gallifrey, destroyed in the last great Time War. That was several lifetimes behind him now, and his newest regeneration had been given vigor not seen or felt since his days in the Academy. Bright brown eyes matched his lightly-tanned and freckled skin, and the mop of dark chocolate hair on his head seemed invulnerable to the taming effects of a good comb. He was wearing a navy suit, faintly pinstriped with gray, over a collared white shirt, and a maroon tie was looped loosely around his neck. Over this, a khaki duster was shrugged, and he was practically bouncing with excitement in the old beige and red trainers that completed the ensemble as he waited impatiently.

Next from the door stepped a young woman, her mocha skin and dark brown eyes clearly pointing her out as not a local girl. Martha Jones was as human as the Doctor looked, but again, there was more to her than that. She was, in fact, a medical student from the Mars settlement Maris-Omega around the year 3096. She had joined (see ‘stowed away’) the Doctor’s company after an incident (see ‘all-out war involving the fate of civilization’) at the University concerning a native reptilian race known as the Ic’r Wa’rios – better known, to the everyday galactic explorer, as the Ice Warriors. Her dark hair was pulled back in a rough ponytail and she sported a pair of dark gray trousers, semi-heeled black boots, and a low-cut blue top. She squinted almost in disbelief at the musty surroundings as she stepped out onto the sandy cobblestone street, giving her maroon faux-leather jacket a tug to settle it on her shoulders.

"Doctor, I hate to repeat myself incessantly..." She drawled, her voice somewhat lilted with an east-end London accent, though not strongly so. "But it is rather hard to follow you two when you start babbling nonsense, so _why_ , again, are we stopping off in…what'd you call this place?"

"This is the spaceport settlement Denabi, on the planet Nebati-16 in the Phoenix Galaxy, approximately five-thousand years in your future." the Doctor repeated with a small flourish of pride. "And we, Miss Martha Jones, are on a scavenger hunt!" He flashed a megawatt smile at her hopefully, but it faded as she didn't catch on his enthusiasm. Martha merely raised an eyebrow.

"A scavenger hunt," She repeated disbelievingly. “Really Doctor…”

The Doctor sighed exasperatedly. "Really Martha,” He mimicked. “We're scavenging up a few new replacement bits for the TARDIS. Wouldn't want to wake up one morning with the gravity gone and find yourself floating two meters above your bed now, would you? Now, where'd I put..." He pulled his hands out of his pockets and rifled through his coat for something as another, slightly older man stepped out of the TARDIS doors, and shut them tight.

"If you're looking for the list, I have it, Doctor." The third member of their party assured him in a distinctly American accent and an amused smile, holding up a crumpled bit of paper folded between his fingers. "I didn't want it to get lost in those dimensionally-transcendental pockets of yours."

This roguish fellow was Captain Jack Harkness, a renegade Time Agent from the Fifty-First Century, later project leader of Torchwood in the Twenty-First. His hair was somewhat shorter and well-managed then the Doctor's scruff, dark in color, but his eyes were a brilliant sapphire blue. He, unlike his companions, blended into the local color, wearing a brown pilot’s vest over a white tunic and cream-colored pants, under what looked like a trench-coat pulled right out of World-War-Two.

"Ah, Jack, thank you." The Doctor stopped rummaging, looking slightly embarrassed for a moment. "Right, off we go! Let’s see if this 'backwater lump of rock', as you so eloquently put it earlier Doctor Jones, indeed does have the parts we're looking for." He turned on his toes and strode out confidently into the crowds. Martha shot Jack a bemused look that plainly said _here we go again_ , and trotted after the errant Time Lord.

Jack gave a chuckle and started after them, but the trained eye could see he wasn't as relaxed as his two traveling companions. His body was tense, movements sharp, checking out every available escape route. Denabi had always given him an uncomfortable edge. The last time he'd been there hadn't exactly gone off without a hitch. Hopefully, this time, nothing would go wrong.


	2. Spoiled Rotten

Sabalom Glitz was not having a good day.

The old smuggler scowled as he lifted the lid off of one of the numerous shipping crates that had been loaded into his spacecraft hold several weeks before. The pungent odor of rotting foodstuffs wafted up across his nose and he gagged, coughing fiercely as he slammed the lid back down. He cast a dismayed look around the small cargo hold, remembering for a moment the magnificent breathing space he’d had before. 

This ship was nothing like the Nosferatu II had been, disappointingly - he had lost command of that crystalline beauty when the Time Agency caught him swanning off with a cargo less then legal. Of course, who could blame him for a few shady deals when none of his legit business arrangements ever seemed to go right? At the moment, he had two separate deals in progress, and neither one seemed to be going according to plan.

“Figures,” he grunted, clearing his throat and brushing a hand through his graying hair. His dark scowl deepened as he calculated the loss of fifteen crates of supplies against the buyer’s asking price, coming up dreadfully short. “Mel is going to kill me for this.”

“You’re darn bloody right I am!” snapped a less then pleased voice from over his shoulder. Glitz winced and turned about, folding his arms over his chest defensively as he met the dangerous green gaze of an annoyed looking woman in flight gear that looked almost old-western in design. Melanie Bush - known as Mel – was formerly from Peese Pottage, in 1980’s West Sussex, England. 

However, this woman was not the young computer programmer who first stepped into the Doctor’s TARDIS, nor was it the girl who yearned for further travel, hitching a ride in Iceworld with the elder thief despite his penchant for the criminal and shifty. This was the Mel who had grown up, and had adapted quite well to her life in Glitz’s crowd. She was a firebrand, co-pilot and navigations expert aboard their new ship, the Star-Striker; she’d refused to let him call the small craft the Nosferatu III, if only because the last two ships of that name had met ill-fated ends. Her curly red hair still had a bit of a 1980’s Earth feel to it, even tied back in the rough ponytail, and she held an air of authority about her as she stormed over, her boots thudding dully on the metal hold floor.

They were partners, friends, and rivals…pretty much anything you wanted to think, **except lovers**. Mention that in front of them and you’d get a black eye at the least.

“Another shipment ruined Glitz, why?” Mel groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose to stave off the beginnings of a headache. “I told you the cargo hold had to be set at 15 Celsius. This stuff doesn’t keep when the engines are going.”

“I did set it at 15!” Glitz protested as he gestured towards the crusted-over thermometer pasted on the side of the hull. “It wasn’t my shortcut that got us off course for three extra days. Strictly speaking we were supposed to be in port last Tuesday. Instead, we hit landfall on Friday, and the Striker gets bashed up more then a bit in the Giluet Nebula Belt. It was probably those asteroids putting dents in her pretty hull that knocked the thermo regulators out of whack.”

“Well it’s that three extra days that has our clients rather steamed.” Mel remarked, moving to check inside one of the crates with a grimace. Glitz stopped her hand before she could open it.

“You don’t want to do that, trust me.” He muttered sorely. “Where’s our first customer? I suppose I should open up negotiations of some sort with him, try and unload this crukked cargo before he figures out its spoiled.”

“She,” Mel corrected. “Miss Mal’Doran. She said she’d be waiting in the local pub around midday. I’d watch your back if I were you, Glitz, I’ve heard…some pretty nasty rumors.” The words hung on the air between them, creating an atmosphere of worry that lasted only a moment, before Glitz smiled his most charming grin.

“In that case I shall have to use my looks and charm to win her over. And a bit of fibbing wouldn’t hurt in either case.” He grabbed his blaster and stuck it in a holster at his side. “Back in a jiff Mel my dear. Don’t take off without me.”

Melanie rolled her eyes and grunted, beginning to load the crates of spoiled foodstuffs onto an anti-gravity trolley. Better to be lightweight and not caught with their hands on the merchandise if things went south, she thought ruefully. 

Busy as she was, she did not noticing the two men who had paused just outside the cargo bay doors, eying both her and her ship with objectionable interest. They were gone by the time she had turned around.


	3. Scavanging Trouble

“Phew. Someone, turn up the AC, I beg.” Martha huffed, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead to clear the sweat glistening on her skin. Since the sun had risen, the temperature had only one way to go, and it had been climbing steadily higher the longer it was in the sky. Martha’s jacket had found its way to being tied around her waist, and Jack’s overcoat was hung over his arm. Of the three of them, the only one who didn’t look unbearably uncomfortable was the Doctor, who was making Martha hotter just watching his duster swing about his ankles.

 _Smug alien git_.

“Nebati-16 orbits a binary star - it's actually no closer to its suns then Earth or Mars are, but its atmosphere is a bit thicker then what you two are used to. It’s not the heat; it’s the humidity, as they say.” He remarked informatively over his shoulder, his gaze wandering around the busy marketplace. “I thought I had timed the landing enough to avoid the worst of it; guess the chronometric regulators need adjusting.”

“They always need adjusting, Doctor. It’s a fact of life with you we all have to suffer.” Jack mused, squinting at the sky. He turned his blue gaze on Martha, suggesting helpfully, “You can always head back to the TARDIS and change, wait for us there.”

“HA! Not a chance.” She laughed shortly, giving him a _look_. “If I do that, then I loose you in the crowd, and you swan off and have all the fun. I don’t want to miss out on a second.”

“Well that’s not a bad idea, actually.” The Doctor remarked, stopping in the shadow of an overhang, only to amend his words hastily as she turned her incredulous glare on him. “I only meant about the heat and changing attire.” He smiled in a placating manner, holding up a hand to quell any protest. “Tell you what. We’ll all head back, lock the parts we’ve already got in the TARDIS so they aren’t picked from our pockets by the midday rabble, you can change into something more comfortable, and then…” The Doctor paused, frowning for a moment in thought.

“Then Martha can explore to her heart’s content, and you and I can do the legwork and find the last few items.” Jack input cheerily, draping an arm around the Doctor’s shoulders and tugging the list from his pocket, offering it to the Time Lord. The Doctor looked hesitant for a minute, but his scowl was good-natured as he snagged the list from Jack and unfolded it.

“Fine; but remember, keep your eyes peeled, your wallets watched, and don’t wander into any dark alleyways.” He sighed, giving his companions a warning gaze. “I really don’t fancy rescuing anyone today. This is a day on which we do not plan on running for our lives, _right?_ ”

“Right!” Martha grinned, giving him a mock-salute. The Time Lord smiled cheerily back, but it was steeped in concern; after Rose had fallen through the void, the urge to keep a closer eye on his companions had grown stronger, and rarely did he let either her or Jack out of his sight. It was a new quirk of his that they all-too-obviously held an understandable grudge against, despite their denying it. He shook off the feeling and gave the list in his hands a good look.

“Right. Anyways, it can’t be impossibly hard to find an MRN 22-point stabilizer and a-” He halted mid-sentence, and Jack hid the grin of a satisfied man as the Doctor’s face darkened with annoyance. “Alright, whose idea was it to write ‘Flux Capacitor’ at the bottom of this list?”

Martha had to stifle her laughter with her hands as Jack smiled innocently and shrugged.

“Wanted to see how long it’d take for you to notice.”

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

After the bag of spare bits and baubles was safely secured aboard their time-and-space ship, they’d all had a good laugh over Jack’s little joke (ending with the Doctor taking a Biro and scribbling the offending entry out, while griping about how incredibly inaccurate that movie had been despite all his helpful suggestions to the writers), and Martha had changed her jacket and boots out for a cooler top and flat-soled shoes (the better to run with, my dear; you could never be too careful), the three agreed to meet up at the local pub, the Cantiana, for a cold drink in two hours.

Martha disappeared almost instantly into the crowd, heading for the local herbal shop, her curiosity about alien remedies for commonplace ailments too great to ignore. The Doctor and Jack set off in the opposite direction, hunting every scrap shop and mechanics for an MRN 22-point stabilizer.

“16 merles for a busted Terulian skimmer is highway robbery!” Jack griped, shoving his hands in his pockets as he shot a glare over his shoulder at the shop they had just left. He heaved a forceful sigh and glanced towards the Doctor, who was examining his new purchase carefully. “I’m pretty sure you were gypped on that stabilizer too, Doc.”

“I might’ve gotten a better deal had you not been ogling the hired hands,” he pointed out mildly, hiding the clear crystal tube in one of his coat pockets and sticking his hands in his trousers in a manner reminiscent of his Fifth self. “At least that’s one thing done without casualties. Once we plug this new stuff into the old systems the TARDIS should run smoother. No more getting knocked off our feet every time we land.”

Jack raised an eyebrow with a grin, and the Doctor threw up his hands with a roll of his eyes. “Ok, fine, no more getting knocked off _as often_ as we do now.”

A fellow who looked vaguely like a humanoid gecko with blue fur came creeping up towards the Doctor, eyeing the pocket that had swallowed the crystal tube.

“That wouldn’t be hard,” said Jack, his back to the crafty-eyed alien. “I think, on average, we seem to end up off our feet about eighty-six percent of the time.”

This was just too easy. The gecko-man slipped even closer, studiously considering a tectonic magnifier that cost at least five times the fair price. His hand reached behind him for the Doctor’s pocket.

“On average?” scoffed the Doctor. “Do you sit around making calculations? May I remind you, my ship is not the one that got blown up in World War II time-space!”

There was a loud ‘snap’ from somewhere behind Jack’s back. He started, and turned, just in time to hear a whimper of pain, and catch a glimpse of a seedy young Graiton making a strategic withdrawal from the scene.

Jack’s attention, however, was taken by the small, yellow-brown object fixed to his fingers.

“Doctor,” he said incredulously. “Was that a mouse-trap?”

“What?” the Doctor gave him a distracted look. “Oh, yes. Nasty sorts around here; can’t be too careful.”

“Swell.” Jack chuckled, slapping his companion lightly on the back, steering them both towards the Cantiana. “Alright Doc, how ‘bout that drink? You still owe me a dance I intend to cash in on one day.”

“Keep calling me ‘Doc’ and you’ll be waiting till the end of time.” The Time Lord smiled sweetly and strode off towards the pub. Jack smirked and cast a last look after the pick-pocket before trotting after him.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

The craggy old Nebatian woman manning the herbs hadn’t been the friendliest of folk when it came to customers who just wanted a look. Not having any valid credits, or tesri and merles as the local currency seemed to be, Martha hadn’t been too welcome to loiter and peek. She cast a sulking look back at the canine-like alien before setting her sights on another booth, dark eyes darting curiously over every flash of interesting wares. A toga-like article of clothing with brilliant tie-dye colors caught her eye, and she paused, fingering the material curiously.

She didn’t notice the grubby little man haunting her shadow until he bumped purposely into her. She caught a fleeting glimpse as her wallet complete with ID flashed out of view into his jacket pocket.

“Oi!” She barked angrily, but he took off before she could act, weaving and dodging the milling crowds. Like a shot she was after him, dust stirring up as she maneuvered her way through the market, muttering apologies to the shoppers she jostled as she tried to catch up to the pickpocket. “Sorry, sorry! Somebody stop that guy, he nicked my stuff!”

Either no one heard her over the din of the street, or no one cared, but there was little reaction to her plea for help. She bit down a curse against the absence of manners in outer rim planets and vaulted over a stack of baskets. Thank heavens for mandatory Phys. Ed.

The guy was too far away by now, and darted right, vanishing around the corner into the shipyard. Blast it, Martha wheezed, slowing down and doubling over to catch her breath. Her side ached with a stitch and her lungs felt like bursting. Taking slow, deep breaths, she straightened back up, and walked forward into the shipyard, glancing around for any potential hiding places. Weasel-features had vanished into the woodwork. The student growled underneath her breath.

“No, please, I did what you asked.”

The plea, unmistakably a man’s voice despite the soft, boyish soprano, came from a back corner of the yards, followed by the unmistakable sound of flesh striking flesh in a rather violent manner.

Martha froze, darting behind a large stack of crates on instinct. Cautiously she shifted until she found a gap in the pyramid, and her widened as she saw the pickpocket from before being hauled unceremoniously to his feet. He was covered in dust and bleeding from a cut on his lip, and Martha couldn’t help but wince as she noticed the splendid coloration beginning to form on his cheekbone. He’d have one beautiful bruise tomorrow morning. She couldn’t say she felt sorry for him.

The two men standing over him were the definition of thugs; the one who had thrown the punch had a short, pudgy face with numerous scars, thick meaty hands and bulk that one just loved to throw around when smarts aren’t on their side. The other was a snaky sort of man with a smile that gave the girl chills. Thug A was flexing his fist in anticipation, while his other hand was iron-gripped on Weasel’s tunic. Weasel seemed less then thrilled about the prospect of being hit again.

“Dun care if ye did,” Thug A grunted, baring his teeth at his captive audience. “We gots tired of waitin, din’ we K’ran?” The grip tightened, and Weasel-features squeaked.

“N-now c-come on L’tral, I-I said I’d get the stuff, and I got the stuff, didn’t I? This time tomorrow we can all relax; the Striker’ll be pilot-less, the Katseye all yours, t-there’s no need for unnecessary violence.”

“Says you. Person’ly I like a bit of unnerss…unnessers…unneeded violence.” L’tral smiled darkly.

“Now L’tral, we mustn’t be angry with mister Jamisan. After all, without his help, who would we find to…finish off the Striker’s crew?” Thug B, K’ran, let an oily smile cross his face. “Let him go; there is work to be done.” L’tral grunted, but let go of Jamisan’s tunic. The man dropped to the ground and scurried away as fast as he could manage, limping a bit from the blows. L’tral and K’ran moved out of her line of sight, and Martha drew in a shaky breath of shock. They were talking of murder.

She had to tell the Doctor.

Slowly shifting and rising up to check if the coast was clear, she glanced towards the shipyard gates, and her stomach sank; the pair was still there, blocking her only way out. She settled back down, hugging her arms around her chest and fussing with the beaded bracelet on her wrist. Nothing she could do until they left.


	4. Old Faces Anew

The Cantiana was packed to the brim with travelers, traders, and folks just looking to gripe and boast about what follies they had come across on the way to the local pub. The low level din of clanking glasses and murmured conversations was just enough to drown out lucrative deals, and that was how Glitz liked it. He scanned the room slowly, before turning his attention back to the woman across from him, missing the unusually dressed couple of blokes who had walked into the pub a few seconds later. He smiled a smooth grin at his tablemate.

“Yes, we did have a might bit of bother getting to Denabi. Horrible sorts of trouble. You know, we had to sidetrack three days off course to avoid a fleet of Cyber-warships just to get your order through, but we managed, and in follow of that, I think we deserve a bit more compensation then just 36 tesri a pop.” He remarked, jabbing his finger on the tabletop. The woman across from him eyed him with a smug sort of aloofness, a small smile of knowing gracing her lips as she traced the rim of her glass. Her outfit was one Glitz could certainly appreciate: black leather leaving nothing to imagination and a hairdo that was done up in a way both haphazard and stylish. She was a dangerous one.

“It seems to _me_ , Sabalom Glitz, that you’re not telling me the truth. After all this is a rather small spaceport, and rumor does fly rather fast when you’re bored and stuck three days longer then you expected to be.” She purred, her voice like melted butter, but her eyes sparking darkly. “My boys have been down to the docks, y’know. My shipment seemed in rather poor condition, from what I hear tell.”

Glitz sat up sharply, insult darkening his expression as he vehemently protested, though he tried to keep his smile pleasant. “Now, now, any damage your lackeys might’ve reported to you could not have been acquired on board _my_ ship. I made personally sure that the property was undamaged and perfectly fine before I came to meet you.”

“That’s not what my boys told me.”

“They could be lying. Or even damaged it themselves. Anyways, there’s no way I can be held responsible for any problems you might have once the cargo has reached port.”

“I think there is.”

"I told you before and I'm telling you now, there ain't _no way_ I can be held responsible for the value of yer cargo once it has left my hanger!" The force with which he brought his fist down upon the table rattled the glasses.

He really had to learn to keep his temper in check.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

The Doctor looked around the bustling pub uneasily. He hadn’t seen glimpse or glance of Martha since they had parted company earlier in the day, and by his knowledge, she should’ve made it to the Cantiana long before them. Worry was prickling at the back of his mind. He stamped it down with his mental foot as Jack returned from the bar. She wasn’t in trouble, she was just late.

Clanking a tankard mug down in front of the Time Lord, Jack grinned as he took his seat and half-toasting the man before he took a swig of his own beverage and sighed thankfully.

“Ah, hits the spot. Drink up Doctor, it’s not spiked. Lemonade, just like you asked.” He had noticed the man tentatively sniffing the murky yellow liquid inside.

“Doesn’t smell like lemonade.” He muttered, taking a testing sip, before determining that it was palatable and continuing with a bolder gulp. “I suppose its better then ginger beer. Do they even have ginger beer? Suppose not; ginger was a lost cause when you humans moved outwards. Course it wouldn’t do to get myself tipsy in a place like this.”

“You get tipsy on ginger beer?” Jack raised an eyebrow, but seeing the look on the Time Lord’s face he decided it was better not to ask. He smirked, filed the information away for later exploitation, and glanced around the bar.

“Place doesn’t seem to have changed all that much. I remember the last time I was here; it was before I met you.” The Time Agent grinned fondly. “Was trying to get parts for my old ship - you remember her, of course. Beautiful piece of craftsmanship that was. Anyways, I naturally ran into a spot of trouble. Woke up the next morning tied to a rock naked on the edge of town with a Uleri -that’s this planet’s version of a llama – sniffing my-”

“Thank you Jack, I really needed to know that.” The Doctor cut him off hurriedly, mildly adding another notch to the number of times Jack had ended his stories with the same scenario. The Captain grinned impishly, and picked up his drink.

"I told you before and I'm telling you now, there ain't _no way_ I can be held responsible for the value of yer cargo once it has left my hanger!"

Jack, his glass of Saurian brandy half-way to his lips, froze. He knew that voice all too well. It was unforgettable; the owner had been an old acquaintance, given him a hand with repairs to his old Chula ship, then had sold him faulty equipment that tended to blow up at the most inopportune times. He set his drink down and glanced at the Doctor – who was looking disbelievingly pale.

“It can’t be.” The Time Lord muttered, and before Jack could ask what he was shocked about (because it couldn’t possibly be the same thing he was shocked about), the Doctor had twisted around in his chair, and was staring open-mouthed in awe.

“Glitz!”

The smuggler turned sharply at the exclamation. Sitting at one of the cleaner tables in the pub were two men. Travelers by the look of them – their clothes sure weren’t bought from the markets.

Both of the men looked disbelieving, but while one glared at him with the equivalent destructive force of a solar implosion, the other seemed delighted. It was the latter who had spoken up.

For all intensive purposes, they seemed to know him. Never a good thing in his line of work.

Trouble was, only one of those faces was familiar, and naturally it _couldn’t_ have been the younger bloke with messy hair and a brilliant grin on his face. His heart sank into his stomach. He knew that Time Agent, he knew that murderous glare, and he also knew what was bound to have happened to a certain warship about 10,000 light-years out. That nav system had been a piece of junk.

To quote an old friend, Cruk.

However, faulty ship parts sold to ex-Time Agents that led to trouble abound seemed to be suddenly second on the list of what had the attention of these two. The older man had cast the younger a baffled stare, and his demand was disbelieving.

" **You** _know_ this guy?"

The younger bloke turned to match his companion’s gaze, his eyebrows levitating in surprise. “What? Better question: how do **you** know him?”

The woman sitting across from the very confused Glitz raised an eyebrow with a silky grin, eying Jack up and down hungrily. "Friends of yours, mister Glitz?"


	5. Pints and Plots

Jack was the first of the group to recover from the shock, but then, he hadn’t been entirely surprised to see an old acquaintance of his in the dirty little pub. His attentions focused on the woman sitting across his table, and he flashed one of his patented Jack-Harkness grins, scooting his chair a bit closer and leaning forward to take her hand. “Captain Jack Harkness, ma’am, a pleasure I’m sure.” He drawled brightly. The woman returned it in her own seductive fashion.

“Vala Mal’Doran, and I’m sure it is.”

The Doctor made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat.

“Ja-ack,” he admonished. “Flirt later! Glitz, don’t say you can’t recognize an old mate.” His brown eyes twinkled with mischievousness. “You might have to think a minute.” Glitz shifted uncomfortably.

“No can do sir. Him I recognize, unfortunately,” and he jerked a thumb at Jack, who had torn his eyes off of Vala at the mention of his person, and given Glitz his best _I’m-not-finished-with-you-yet_ glare. “But your face eludes me. I think you’ve got me mistaken for someone else.”

“Oh Glitz, I’m hurt.” The Doctor frowned good-naturedly. “Sabalom Glitz. Former owner of the Nosferatu, which was destroyed as it fled Kane’s massive starship, nicknamed Iceworld, later renamed the Nosferatu II after Kane decided to spend life as a puddle.”

“And how on Earth could you know that?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow, before realization dawned. “Wait, no, don’t tell me. You were there.”

“I owe Glitz. Or is it he who owes me? Either way there’s debts to be had.” He grinned brilliantly. “I believe I once told you…the difference is purely perceptual.”

Glitz’s confused and nervous expression blossomed into shock. “Percep-it couldn’t be… _Doctor_?” He exclaimed, gawping at the lanky individual in disbelief. The Doctor beamed with delight.

“Got it in one! How’ve yah been, Glitz?”

“I hate to throw a spanner in the works here, but we had business to finish?” Vala interrupted, somewhat putout.

“Yes, right, sorry. We’re interrupting. Go right on ahead.” The Doctor waved a hand and propped his chin on his arms, folded across the back of his chair and watching Glitz expectantly.

The thief frowned. Dodgy deals never passed the Doctor’s watchful eye, and it was in the tubes already. He sighed and looked to Vala. “Miss Mal’Doran, please excuse me. 36 tesri a crate is fine enough. My partner will be waiting with the cargo on the Star-Striker.”

The leather-clad woman smiled in satisfaction and nodded, draining the last of her drink and clunking the glass back onto the table. “Pleasure doing business with you, mister Glitz. And you…” She glanced back at Jack, and grinned dangerously, before pulling her coat off the back of her chair and sauntering out of the Cantiana. Jack let out a low whistle and made to follow her, but the Doctor reached out and grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back into a chair and giving him a no-chance-in-the-universe look. Disgruntled, he slid his chair over to Glitz’s table.

“Now, where were we?” He questioned, giving Glitz the evil eye.

“You’ve regenerated again, I see.” Glitz remarked faintly as he edged away from Jack, glancing over the Doctor’s new body. “An improvement on the last one, though I see you didn’t loose some of your accent.”

The Doctor ran his hand through his hair a bit sheepishly. “Ah, well, technically speaking, this is my tenth persona. I’m afraid it’s been a long time since our last meeting.” He smiled, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Two, no, three regenerations ahead. Seven, eight…yes, three.” He nodded in confirmation. Jack blinked.

“Wait, so you’ve done that regenerating thing before? I thought it was just the one time.”

“A Time Lord can regenerate twelve times, Jack. Thirteen lives in all.” The Doctor informed him mildly. “Glitz knew me back when I was, how did Ace once put it…? Short, Scottish, and infuriating.” He grinned abashedly. Glitz chortled.

“I knew you the life before that one too, Doctor. That outfit could’ve blinded the whole of the Andromeda galaxy.” He guffawed loudly. Jack grinned with mirth.

“Is this the eyesore that’s stuffed in the back of the wardrobe with the patchwork and the cat-pin on-?”

“Yes, well, let’s not dwell too much on that.” The Doctor interrupted hurriedly, looked rather embarrassed and rubbing his neck. “What’s this about the Star-Striker, Glitz? What happened to Iceworld?”

Jack filed a mental note alongside the ginger beer remark to press the Doctor on that embarrassing information back at the TARDIS, and  got up to order a few more drinks round the table as Glitz explained the ship’s fate. It seemed the Nosferatu II had been engaged in a minor illicit assignment when the Time Agents had decided to drop in for a visit. Not having the credits to pay off the fines, they took his ship and stranded him in the year 3090, six years ago. He’d picked up the Star-Striker not long after, but wouldn’t say how. Jack suspected it wasn’t a legal operation, and said so.

Glitz told him to shove it.

They swapped stories of a few lucrative deals that ended in amusing situations, and even the parts transfer, prior to the loss of Glitz’s first prize ship, which had landed Jack in the incident with the Denabi llama-creature. Jack turned rather sore towards the end of that story and called Glitz a slimy git for swanning off in the Nosferatu and leaving him out there instead of coming back to untie him.

 _This_ led into an argument between the two conmen over the incident of exploding navigation circuits, which the Doctor had to mediate before it could turn into a barroom brawl. They coincided to let Glitz pick up the tab as punishment. As Glitz waved the bartender for another round of drinks, the Doctor found himself again glancing in a worried manner towards the door. It had been an hour and a half since Martha was supposed to meet them there, and there was still no sign of the young student.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

Martha’s back was starting to ache; crouched behind the stack of boxes that was her only sanctuary from the eyes of the two men not fifteen meters away, she was rather hesitant to get up and make her presence known to the self-incriminated murderers. Well, plotters looking to become murderers. She winced as her legs protested against the shift she made to get more comfortable, and peered out through the small gap.

_Wait a tick…where’d they get to?_

Martha frowned, rolling from her crouch in the dirt to a more correctable position on hand and knee, and leaned forward to see if it would shed more visibility on the shipyard. The thug and his scrawny little friend had vanished, and she gained nothing from the motion but a twinge in her muscles. Perhaps they had well and truly gone. Martha breathed a sigh of relief, and uncoiled slowly, standing up and stretching her back.

A thick, meaty hand clapped itself roughly over her mouth as another yanked her back by the arm, muffling her startled yelp, and she was crushed into a wall of L’tral-shaped muscle and bulk, held fast despite her vain struggling.

“Oi, looks like we’ve got us a little slinking cat about,” crowed K’ran delightedly, smiling an oily, sickening grin. “An’ you know what they say about cats and curiosity, dontcha?”

Martha caught a flash of grimy beige cloth as it covered her mouth and nose, and despite her squirming, there was nothing she could do to escape. She could detect roughshod chloroform and engine grease invading her senses. As her world faded from coherency, a fleeting response crossed her mind.

_Yeah…the cat gets her goose cooked._

The medical student groaned softly as she succumbed to the odorous mixture, and her eyes rolled back in her head, body falling limp in L’tral’s arms. The bracelet in her hand fell unhampered to the blackened dirt.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

“So this bloke T’jeraio, he’s powered up the sonic drive on the engines, and the whole room’s shaking to bits. And the Doctor’s just standing there like it’s the most natural thing in the world, while Martha’s knocked off her feet like she had one too many at the local pub, and this tin of engine oil falls off the shelf and completely coats her favorite jacket. I thought she was going to knock his block off; she looked downright murderous, even when he said it’d wash out!”

Glitz and Jack roared with laughter, but the absence of a third laugh was noticeable.  Jack cast a glance to the Time Lord beside him. The Doctor wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were trained worriedly on the Cantiana’s doors.

Glitz tilted his head slightly, wondering what was on the Time Lord’s mind. It was somewhat unsettling to have the normally talkative man so quiet. After a moment’s thought he came up with the perfect distraction.

“Y’know we’ve been talking for hours and I have yet to hear you ask about Miss Bush.” He remarked casually, taking a sip of his drink. That got the Doctor’s attention. He snapped his head around, eyes wide as he absorbed the words.

“Mel! Blimey, I can’t believe I forgot to ask. How’d she fare being your shipmate for a time?” He smiled, considerably brightened. “I suppose you dropped her off on Earth down the line. You did say you were headed that way.”

Glitz adapted a smug grin that reminded Jack of the Cheshire cat from Alice and Wonderland. “Well, I tried to drop her off, but you know Mel.” He sighed. “She simply refused to go back to Peese Pottage. Said the slow path wasn’t hers anymore. Asked me to take her somewhere else.” His eyes were twinkling with mirth as the Doctor slumped back in his chair, looking a little dazed and confused.

“So where’d she head off to?” He asked faintly.

“Did I say anything about her actually _leaving_?” Glitz’s grin got bigger. “Best damn co-pilot I ever had.”

And the three of them jumped as the Cantiana doors slammed open.


	6. Trouble with a capital 'M'

The glare from the binary suns darkened the figure looming in the archway, but even as the trio at the table squinted, the exhausted, overheated, and (above all) dangerously annoyed expression gracing Mel’s face was plain to see.

“GLITZ!” She yelled over the buzz of the pub, causing all eyes to turn on her and the silence following to become rather uncomfortable. Glitz paled and turned his back to her, shrinking down in his chair a smidge.

“Oh bugger.”

“I take back the comment about you being a slimy git, Glitz. How many more beautiful women do you know? That I could meet? Who wear form-fitting outfits?” Jack’s eyes were glued to the fire-haired woman who was heading in their direction, as the silence in the pub gave way to the low level white noise again. The Doctor was enthralled for an entirely different reason, and awe was plastered all over his face. He was aware he was staring. He also didn’t care.

“36 tesri a crate, Glitz! I swear that is the last time I let you handle one of our business deals.” She snapped. “Mal’Doran was practically skipping to the bank as she loaded her inventory. Might I cross my fingers and hope you didn’t just give in to her charms and loose your head completely?”

“Ah, I’m afraid that’s our fault, ma’am. We sorta had to interrupt the proceedings.” Jack smiled warmly, standing up from the table and taking her hand to kiss it. Mel stared at him with a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

“So it’s you two I should be mad at, is that it? Sorry, blame not shifted by proxy. And you are…” she prompted, tugging it from his grasp and returning it to her hip with a glower.

“Captain Jack Harkness.” He smiled, and waved a hand at the Doctor. “And this is the-”

At this point, Glitz tried to make good his escape, sliding his chair out very quietly and edging backwards. Mel’s attention was instantly locked back on him, to the exclusion of all else. If the End Times had a personification, Jack was looking at it.

“I don’t care who your friend,” she said curtly. “I’m far more interested in socking a so-called “businessman” until the brains leak out his ears –assuming he has any, that is.”

Jack looked at the Doctor, but he was too busy staring at Mel as though she was about to vanish to listen to what she was saying.

“Mel, my dear,” said Glitz weakly. “I can explain!”

“I’m sure you can!” she retorted. “The day Sabalom Glitz doesn’t have a half-dozen of excuses ready; I’ll go back to programming!”

“Mel,” said the Doctor.

“Not now,” said Mel, still fuming. “You know what that loss means? I should sell you for slave labor, I really should.”

“Mel,” said the Doctor again, just a little louder.

“Except everyone knows you,” she continued. “I’d be hard put to find anyone to _take_ you, let alone pay good cash for you –”

Suddenly, a rich, cultured voice boomed, “For Rassilon’s sake, Melanie Bush, can’t you let a Time Lord talk?!”

Everyone turned in shock to stare at the usually slightly cockney-accented Doctor.

“Sorry,” said the Doctor, looking exasperated, now sounding exactly as he always did. “I try not to do that too often. But hey, it got your attention, didn’t it?”

Mel stared at him as though he had slapped her. Her breath had hitched as the familiar voice sank into her head, and her eyes instantly narrowed, searching his out. There, past the mischievous features and the childlike wonder was a hint of the endless, timeless depths that once haunted her friend and mentor.

Only the Doctor was unsurprised as she snatched up his hand and pressed her fingers into his pulse-point. Then into his other one. He knew the reason for it; she’d done it before, on an outlying planet called Lakertya.

She had to be sure it was him.

The Doctor watched with long-suffering patience and amusement as she dropped his hand, her face pale. Her hands were trembling faintly. “Good lord…it’s…really you. Isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

“Course it’s me. Who else would be barmy enough to hang out with this lump?” He jerked a thumb in Glitz’s direction and grinned. Then his voice softened. “You look good, Mel.”

If Mel had been the fainting kind, she probably would’ve right there and then. Instead, she swallowed, and her pale complexion warmed to a weak smile. “So do you.” She stared at him for a minute longer, then let out a half-sob within her delighted laugh and flung her arms around his neck. “Shells, Doctor, I thought you were dead!”

“I’m glad I’m not. It would’ve been a right waste of time trying to convince you I wasn’t otherwise.” He chuckled, squeezing her tight for a minute before releasing her. “You’ve no idea how good it is to see you, Mel.” he trailed off, and plastered a smiling bandage over the sad look in his eyes. “It’s just brilliant, that’s what it is. Absolutely brilliant.”

Their audience watched with bemusement.

“So that’s your Mel, eh Glitz? Lucky fellow you are, having a partner like _that_ …” Jack mused, folding his arms over his chest lightly and keeping his voice low. Glitz raised an eyebrow and glared at the captain.

“Lucky I might be, but not for the reasons your smutty mind can come up with. I greatly advise hands off; she’s probably the one person in Denabi who could take the Jack Harkness libido permanently out of commission.” He cautioned in a growl, scowling at the man.

“I shan’t dare then. I like my libido as is.” Jack grinned and focused his attentions back to the conversation between the two old companions, catching the tail end of Mel’s questioning.

“And how’s Ace? Still toting around her own brand of unstable explosives, or has she moved onto more sensible forms of destruction?”

Jack sucked in a startled breath and held it with concern, watching the Doctor carefully. Since he’d rejoined the wandering Time Lord, he had eased enough information out of him to learn about some of his past and best companions. Out of all of the toughest cases – Adric, Turlough, Tegan, Jamie, Zoe, Peri, Benny, even Charley – Ace still had the Time Lord’s conscience wound up. He had manipulated, used, torn apart and stitched their friendship back together. She was Time’s Vigilante, left to guard the rift in Paris, and he still had no idea if she had ever survived the war.

The Doctor took a deep breath and smiled sadly. “Ace is a…long story, Mel. But no, she left some time ago. I’m traveling with Jack now, and a Miss Martha Jones; medical student, vegetarian. You’d like her.” He cast a scrutinizing glance around the pub. “I’m getting a little worried, admittedly; it’s been nearly 3 hours since she was supposed to meet us.”

“You let her wander off alone, in Denabi? You’re slipping, Doctor.” Mel chided with a smirk, but there was seriousness behind her tone. “This Martha, she’s not prone to miss appointments? Ignore a curfew or meeting?” The two men shook their heads to each, casting a glance between them.

“No, she’s never forgotten a date, time, or place. Sort of makes her like you, Mel, elephantine memory for detail…” The Doctor said slowly.

“So if she hasn’t shown up…” Jack echoed, a sickening feeling dropping his stomach.

“She must be in trouble.” They finished together grimly, and the Doctor groaned, casting his eyes to the ceiling.

So much for a day off.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

Martha jolted awake, sucking in a sharp gasp for breath as the haze of chloroform was lifted rather rudely from her mind by a bucket of ice cold water dumped unceremoniously over her head. She coughed raggedly and shook her head briskly, the stagnant liquid dripping from her hair as she blinked the fog from her eyes. Where was she? What happened? What was going on?

She made to move, but quickly discovered she couldn’t budge, which only served to make her heart rate jump fearfully. Her hands and feet were immobile, lashed tightly to the structure of a rickety old chair, and a strap around her chest was crushing her to the backboard; _how original_ , she thought sarcastically. From the tingling in her fingers and toes she wagered a guess she’d been there for some time, maybe an hour and a half. As her eyes focused on the dim light, her heart sank to into her stomach: the suns filtering through the slats of the shoddy-looking shed cast enough light to give her a grim realization that she’d been kidnapped. _Well frig._

_Sorry Doctor._

A hand grabbed her soaked locks and she cried out, startled and in pain, as her head was yanked back, grating her teeth with her best defiantly murderous glare at L’tral, who was smirking at her.

“Waking time, sweet’art. Can’t sleep the day away y’know.” He chuckled in a manner that gave the medical student chills, though the shed was quite warm. “Deh boss’ll want you all nice and chipper fer the big event.”

 _And just who’s your boss, I wonder?_  “Oh that’s nice, thanks.” She snapped, her brown eyes flickering slightly as her mind worked furiously for a plan. “Should’ve thought of that before you _drugged me._ ”

“Weren’t my idea, hon. K’ran here does like his chemicals.” L’tral motioned to the snaky little man, who was perched on a barrel not far away, toying with a knife in his grubby fingers. “Yous are the key to the plan, see. M’fraid I hadta.” L’tral smiled darkly. “’owever, now that we’ve got yeh, you’re not goin’ anywheres. Yous’re gonna help us. But I promise there won’t be a single hair harmed on yer purdy lil head…if ye keep quiet.” Martha glared warily at the man towering over her.

“And why would I trust your word? What if I scream?” She questioned, narrowing her eyes. “I could call for help right now and blow this newsstand to bits.”

“Ah, but ye wouldn’t, would ye? We’ve no qualms of putting a few bruises on ye, whelp. S’long as you isn’t killed. And when we raid the Star-Striker at nightfall, you’ll be comin’ along. We need a face to put to the culprit, you see, when we find the Katseye diamond nicked and the ship’s crew pushing daisies.” K’ran answered, a mad smile that made Martha’s blood run cold curled across his lips. “Only a few hours to go, my dear.”

She swallowed, glancing over her shoulder at the door, bolted shut tight, and took a steadying breath.

“Well, I say, given no choice in the matter, that I suppose…” the rather vulgar and inappropriate remark that left her lips next, spoken in fluent Wa’rios dialect and referring to where a dishonored warrior could shove his broken sword, was received with a furious growl, and Martha winced, tasting blood on her tongue as L’tral backhanded her across the cheek. They didn't need to speak the language to understand an insult.

_Totally worth it._


	7. Theft of the Katseye

“I’m such an idiot,” the Doctor groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face as he pushed his chair back. “Don’t wander off, don’t get caught, don’t touch the red button; I don’t know why I bother saying _don’t_ , it always invites trouble.”

“If she’s anything like your other companions, she’s probably hitched a lift with the closest charmer in the shipyards,” Glitz remarked dryly, flinching as Mel gave his arm a firm punch.

“Glitz, stop it. You know better then anyone what the Larias family gets up to in this place, she could be in real danger,” She scolded, looking at the Doctor with concern. “As much as I want to say I hope she’s only lost, I have that nagging feeling in my head. You remember the last time that happened.”

The Doctor smirked grimly. “The Vervoids on Hyperion III. How could I forget? Right then, we’d better start a search. Jack, you and Glitz know the local grapevine, find out anything you can on shady deals being planned in the near future. It’s possible she’s been nabbed. Mel, you and I can ask around the market, in case she took a wrong turn somewhere.”

“Ah, no can do Doctor, I’m afraid you’ll have to count me out of this one.” Glitz shook his head, smirking in his usual manner. “I’d love to apply my services and all, but I’ve business to attend to and it is rather pressing.”

Mel turned suspicious eyes on her partner. “What do you mean _business_? The cargo’s unloaded and the Striker just needs refueling; what are you up to, Sabalom?”

“Nothing my dear, merely a side venture. Not anything that you need concern yourself about.” He smiled disarmingly, and scooted back his chair, nodding to them all. “I’ll see you back at the Striker later, Mel. Terribly sorry.” And with that, he left.

“Why do I get the feeling this is going to end badly?” the redhead groaned. The Doctor smiled lightly.

“Probably that pesky thing called experience. C’mon, let’s get cracking.”

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

Clear of the pub, Glitz increased his stride, his normally cocky expression turning serious as he headed towards the landing yard at the edge of town.

It wasn’t that he was sorry to see the Doctor alive and well, especially after the two time-space travelers started hearing the rumors. It was as if the entire universe, once well-versed in the existence of the Time Lords, had gotten amnesia. Gallifrey had become a myth. Mel had fretted and worried until he was sure his ears would bleed. Knowing that the Doctor at least had survived whatever great cataclysm had befallen his race was a comfort.

But by the devil, why’d he have to show up here and now?!

The binary suns had sunk to the horizon, reminding Glitz of the notoriously short days on Nebati-16. There would be light enough for an hour or two more, but sunset was just about when the real rats came crawling out of the woodwork. He spared a thought for Mel before pushing it aside; she could handle herself. With a grunt, he pushed open the heavy metal doors that separated the market from the landing yard, and hesitated.

The Star-Striker still stood, proudly lifting its nose to the stars in silver silence, and the buzz of the main traffic had died down. The lull was almost deafening, and it made Glitz uneasy. He resolved to trot quickly across the void and punched in the airlock codes to the ship’s cargo bay a bit too forcefully, ducking inside before the doors had even fully opened.

A shadowy figure in the darkness of the unloading docks watched him disappear quickly inside, and smiled, slipping away to inform the others.

The target had come home to roost.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

The creak of rusted hinges grated up Martha’s spine and she shuddered, blinking the haze from her vision as she lifted her head. L’tral stomped into the room, carrying a portable video screen under his arm. He shot her a glare as he set it on a nearby crate, and turned the camera towards her so the person on the other end could see their captive. A figure stood silhouetted in the small surface, his face cast in shadow. She squinted, trying to make him out, but it was little use; her head was still muddled with the sedative they had injected into her arm.

The figure regarded the dark girl strapped to the chair for a moment, before turning to address K’ran. His voice was melodic and smooth with a sort of South-African flair, sliding along the consonants and vowels like melted butter.

Or deadly poison.

“Our scout reports he has arrived. Our plans will move forward. You will bring the girl.” He paused, pale blue eyes casting their full attention on the thug, and Martha could practically feel the temperature of the air drop several degrees despite the fact the man was not even in the room. “Make sure you do not fail me, K’ran. It would not be in your best interest.”

“Yes sir.” The thief uncoiled from his perch on the crates and bowed his head to the dark figure; Martha was cheered slightly that his voice held a trace of nervousness.

Then K’ran moved forward, something glinting in his hand, and the cheer died; she held back a cry as the jab of a needle was pushed forcefully into her already tender arm. She could feel the world begin to slip away again. Befuddled and woozy, she could do little except experience as they unbound her body from the chair, hauled her to her feet, and carried her out into the Nebatian twilight.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

Twilight brought out a spooky sort of atmosphere to the streets of Denabi. The sun-warmed desert landscape radiated heat up through the soles of the shoes belonging to the folks who remained idling around outside, and mist crept across the ground like ghostly phantoms as the air rapidly cooled. It was like the whole of the world was washed clean.

The bustle of the market had died down, but the vendors were still selling their wares, which was good news for the Doctor and Mel. They started retracing the Doctor’s steps, from where he had last spoken to Martha to where he had seen her vanish into the crowds. After an hour of tracking and tracing, it was a disappointing venture.

Denabians weren’t keen to blab the secrets of their own little universe to complete strangers, even strangers with important, official-looking identification cards in little black leather wallets, unless they were getting something in return. Credit sticks hadn’t been put into play on the backwater outpost, which meant jiggery-pokery of non-existent cash machines was out of the question as well.

Mel, at this point, rolled her eyes.

“I see the notion your previous self had about carrying money went with the regeneration,” She remarked dryly, unzipping her flight jacket and tugging a battered leather bag out of her top.

The Doctor gawped at her.

She fixed him with a pointed look. “What? In places like this, it’s the only way to make sure no one steals it.”

“I go for mousetraps in the pockets, myself,” he replied. “I’m still trying to get over just how much you’ve grown up.”

Mel smirked cheekily and tugged open the bag, dumping a few metal coins into the palm of her hand. There were several nickel-sized circular copper pieces – lutrès, she called them; a couple of bronze octagonal disks the size of quarters – tesri; and one or two silver doubloon-reminiscent pieces with crescent notches in the sides – merles. All of them were stamped with a phoenix and twin stars – the galactic seal for the Nebati system.

“Never come unprepared, Doctor. You taught me that.” She grinned. “Shall we see if these loosen the lips of the good folk round us?”

The Doctor grinned impishly at her and shook a finger. “Cheeky you’ve become, what has Glitz done to you?”

“Taught me to survive,” Mel replied, and for a second the Doctor was taken aback by a slight darkness behind her tone. But it was gone the next moment as she smiled. He returned it with some trepidation, and they headed towards a stall selling native herbal remedies. Knowing Martha’s curiosity about such things, it was a good place to start.

Meanwhile, Jack was back at the bar, employing two of his three favorite ways of interrogating witnesses: charm and heavy liquor. If he worked the cards right he might be able to throw in the third option, but that was for later.

He’d gone out with the Doctor and Mel at first, and then slipped back into the Cantiana through the back way, donning his heavy greatcoat for disguise. Those who had seen him with the previous group wouldn’t place his face, and those who had newly arrived wouldn’t know him at all. Perched at the bar, he fondled a glass of water between his palms as he grinned disarmingly at the scruffy young man who had scooted in next to him looking rather worse for wear. The kid had a beautiful black eye blossoming over his cheek.

“So how’d you get that shiner, then?” He asked mildly, waving the barkeeper over and ordering a drink for his new friend. The kid eyed him warily and scowled, but the offer of free booze wasn’t lost on him.

“Got punched. How else?” He replied dully, draining the tankard of watery beer in a few gulps and clunking it back down onto the stonework surface.

“How else?” Jack echoed with a smile, as the vendor refilled the mug. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small, tattered picture. Martha’s smiling face beamed out at him from the glossy surface.

It had been taken in 1999 on a bridge over the Thames, before the turn of the century. Jack had wanted to see the fireworks from atop the golden gate bridge, but the Doctor had denied the request, dryly joking that he left his hearts in San Francisco once and he wasn’t about to go back there anytime soon. There had been a warning tone in his voice that kept Jack from pressing the matter.

They all still had secrets, after all.

Jack shook the fond memory from his thoughts and held up the photo for the kid next to him. “So tell me, Jamisan-” the kid started sharply at the mention of his name, gulping.

“How did you know-?”

“It’s stitched into your collar. Listen, Jamie - I may call you Jamie yes? – I’d like to get the low-down on a certain individual around these parts, a stranger. You might’ve seen her, good looking guy like you.” He waved the photo. “I can make it worth your while, Jamie, if you could tell me everything you know.”

Jamisan looked downright nervous. His hands shook slightly as he grasped at the mug in front of him.

“You’re her friend, aintche?” He muttered softly. “I didn’ mean to get her into it. They threatened my life if I didn’…course they didn’t keep their word on it.” He touched the darkening bruise on his face tenderly and swallowed. All joviality had vanished from Jack’s face.

“Jamie, tell me what’s happened to the girl. What did you do?”

And Jamisan did.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

The old woman eyed the silver merle in Mel’s fingers with a disdainfully raised eyebrow.

“I…might’ve seen something. Memory’s always been a lil’ fuzzy,” She drawled, dusting some potting mulch off of one of the back shelves. She was a short character, with rough brown-gold fur and a cricked tail that plumed out, resembling something like a shaved golden retriever. Mel grated her teeth to withhold a growl, without much success. She normally kept her temper in check, saving it for Glitz, but there were only so many times one could ask a question before one lost their sense of calm.

“We don’t have time for games, woman. Out with it!” she barked. “Which way did you see her go?”

The Nebatian bristled and barked back, though for real. “Why of all the insolent-”

“Ladies, please!” The Doctor admonished, stepping between them and plucking the merle from Mel’s fingers. He slapped it into the healer’s hand and fixed her eyes with a penetrating gaze.

“Miss Li’arn, I will only ask once. Which way did she go?” he repeated, his voice soft, suggestive and dark. The woman was silent for a moment, regarding the Doctor’s face, before indicating with a gesture of the hand.

“I sent her away,” She answered in a monotone voice. “She wandered towards Jask’s booth…few minutes later she bolted. Headed towards the shipyards…chasing some kid, pickpocket maybe.”

“Thank you Miss Li’arn, that’s all I needed to know.” The woman blinked, shaking herself from the light trance, and stuffed the silver coin greedily into the pouch on her belt, bustling away from the pair nervously. The Doctor sighed, and straightened up, glancing at Mel. He immediately frowned. “Mel? Are you alright?”

Mel had a peculiar, troubled look on her face, and her eyes were glassy in the dim light. Her skin had begun to crawl with ice as soon as the Doctor began talking.

She recognized the hypnotic tones the Doctor had used, and for some reason, felt vaguely disconcerted. She rubbed her hands over her goose-pimped arms, and blinked at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, spaced a bit there.” She gave him a brief smile, which he didn’t return, still looking concerned. The pilot cleared her throat.

“The shipyards, was it? They tow the derelict craft into those parts for repairs. We’d better get a shift on if we want to get in before they shut it down for the night.” Attempting to conceal the previous moment of unease, she grabbed his hand and pulled him forward down the street, setting up a jog towards their destination.

Jack was already waiting outside the shipyard gates when they arrived, his fists shoved in his pockets and a dark look normally reserved for Daleks and people who talked in the theater haunting his entire expression.

“Too late Doctor, she’s not here.” He growled, before the Doctor could ask. “Came and gone. I found this in the dirt before they kicked me out and closed up.” He pulled Martha’s bracelet from his pocket, and tossed it to the Time Lord, who caught it and examined it carefully.

“What is it?” Mel asked breathlessly, looking over his arm at the woven rope circlet inlaid with multicolored beads.

“This is Martha’s charm bracelet. She never takes this off.” he stated with grim realization. Jack nodded.

“I learned some pretty interesting things from a local in the pub as well, Doc. You’re not gonna like it.”

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

“500 grotzits, or the equiv in Nebatian merles, and no shirking me there, I know my maths,” Glitz warned the vid-screen. Or rather, the man on the other side of the vid-screen. Or rather, the Nebatian on the other end. The canine-profiled alien, who very much resembled a pit-bull in a suit, didn’t look entirely pleased about the price.

“You tire me, Sabalom Glitz. I believe the original deal was for 300. You are well known in Denabi for your scams.” He scowled out at the humanoid from the grainy quality of the video feed.

“Well it seems to me this diamond that has caught your interest is much sought after. What say to an even ground here, hm?” Glitz smiled. “450 grotzits fair enough?”

“350. I will not pay for lateness and incompetence, Mister Glitz.” The canine snorted with a growl. “My men will be by in the morning to make the trade. Don’t be late.” The video screen flickered black, and Glitz breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing had gone wonky. No one had walked in on him in communication with the Larias brood. And the diamond was safely tucked away in secret. He leaned back in his pilot’s chair and rubbed his hands over his face before swiveling around and rising stiffly. With a groan and a curse to his aged joints, he skulked off down the corridor to his quarters.

The box was plain, small and gray without any sort of informative labels pasted on the sides. Glitz sighed as he pulled it from the cubby-hole in the ceiling of his quarters, dusting off the tin with his sleeve. He stole a peek inside and grinned as the light caught the facets of the diamond resting inside.

“Hello beautiful,” He purred, chuckling to himself as he shut the box and tucked it under his arm. He climbed the steps to the corridor, and headed towards the cargo hold.

The lights had been lowered in the empty room, to conserve power. Glitz grunted and waved his hand over the sensor panel that should’ve switched them on, but they remained stubbornly dim. He sighed and added another faulty system to fix to his list of repairs, and walked across the room to the manual control panel. As he poked the buttons, a muffled thump behind him made him jump, and on instinct he reached for a blaster that he had removed and hung over the captain’s chair in the cockpit some time ago.

Thankfully it wasn’t a murderous local who had invaded his hold. It was some sort of bundle, wriggling against the far wall. He scowled and punched the button for the lights, and his eyes widened in surprise as the bright lights caused the dark-skinned girl to flinch slightly. She struggled to sit up, her feet bound, her hands lashed behind her back, and her mouth silenced with a dirty rag and a strip of cloth. She made a whimpering noise through the inhibiting gag.

“Now who the blazes are you, I wonder?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow and walking over to her. The gray box was set aside as he knelt down in front of her. “And how did you get in here?”

Martha’s eyes grew wide with alarm and she moaned against the gag, struggling against her bonds fiercely.

“Hold on there kid, I ain’t going to hurtche.” Glitz frowned and reached up, yanking the gag from her mouth.  She gasped, gulping at the fresh air before croaking out -

“Behind you!”

Glitz started, standing and whirled around just in time to catch a right hook to his jaw, and he staggered back, reeling from the blow. Blinking the stars from his eyes, he made out L’tral’s muscled, dark-clothed figure, and growled; how dare they invade _his_ ship!

“I don’t know who you are or what you bloody want, but you picked the wrong captain to mess with!” He roared angrily, shaking off the punch. “Now get off my boat!” He charged the masked man, catching him in the stomach with his shoulder, knocking him off balance and sending them both careening into a stack of crates Mel hadn’t bothered to unload with the rest. The contents spilled out over the floor, and the smell of rotting vegetation and sour drink filled the small room quickly.

Martha fought the desire to gag and wasted no time. With her mouth freed, she had one more option that she hadn’t had before. She leaned forward as far as she could and yanked at the strips of cloth that bound her legs with her teeth, getting them loose enough to kick off. She scrambled to her knees and glanced around for something sharp to cut the ropes around her wrists. The box Glitz had dropped caught her eye.

The diamond, of course!

Ducking out of the way from the two men locked in a wrestling match in the gunk, she scooted over to the box, and turned her back to it. The lock was easy enough to jimmy open - it wasn’t a very well constructed container – and she smiled triumphantly as she felt the cool smooth edge of the crystal. Diamond could cut through anything. Hurriedly she scrambled back to the wall, and worked the sharp edge of the diamond against the ropes, until the tension snapped and she pulled the final fraying strands apart.

Rubbing her sore wrists, Martha slipped the palm-sized crystal into her pants pocket, and crept on all fours towards the cargo bay doors. She cast a glance back at Glitz, and held back a warning cry that would’ve only served to give her away as K’ran brought a plank crashing down onto his neck. The smuggler grunted and collapsed unconscious to the muck-strewn floor. The medical student winced and bit her lip, hesitating, before fleeing the shuttle. Her soles crunched against the gravel and she took off running, towards the dark outlines of the rocks.

Snarling, L’tral pulled himself to his feet, and kicked Glitz’s still form harshly, reaching for his blaster.

“No, wait L’tral!” K’ran put out a hand to stop him, and pointed to the open, empty box. “The Katseye! The whelp must’ve taken it!”

“But deh boss said we’s to kill deh-”

“If we don’t have the girl, we don’t have anyone to pin his death on, and the Larias family will know it was us that done it!” K’ran smacked the man on the arm. “Get after her! Leave him; he won’t be waking up any time soon.”

L’tral grunted and jogged out of the hold, K’ran hot on his tail, removing his blaster from its holster at last and aiming at Martha’s path of flight.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

“The kid said they were holed up in some abandoned docking bay nearby, but when I went to check it out the place was as dead as a Dalek,” Jack finished. He had explained to the pair about the kid, how he had lured Martha into a trap, how the two who had messed him up had drugged and dragged her off, and by the time he was done the Doctor’s expression was downright lethal.

“No clues as to where they went?” He demanded, struggling to keep his voice calm, but Mel was reminded somehow of a volcano broiling just below eruption. There was the same ominous quality. Jack shook his head.

Suddenly all three of them started, as the blood-chilling staccato of projectile fire echoed once, twice, three times in the night, coming from the direction of the landing pads.

From the Star-Striker.

“Glitz!” Mel gasped, her cheeks drained of color. With a surprising amount of speed she took off running towards the ship, leaving Jack and the Doctor behind.


	8. The Runaway Martian

“Hell. Looks like a swarm of vortesaurs got loose and had a party.”

Looking at the Star-Striker, the Doctor had to agree with Jack. The cargo hold was a complete loss. Crates were overturned, cracked and splintered, and the floor was littered with muck - vegetable material, if he wasn’t mistaken, and he wasn’t, if he went by the sickly sweet smell of rotting mulch. Mel looked like she was going to be sick, and not just from the odor.

“What in the twin suns could’ve done- oh my god, GLITZ!” she exclaimed, and vaulted over an upturned crate, her boots skidding in the slippery muck. She slipped, landing on her hands and knees, and crawled over to Glitz’s prone, still form. He was laying face-down, an arm crooked under his head, and blood that wasn’t quite dry ran small rivulets down his temple and neck. Mel choked back a fearful sob and shook his shoulder.

“C-come on Glitz, don’t be putting me out here, wake up.”

She was rewarded as Glitz moaned softly, his eyes fluttering open for just a moment, unfocused and glassy. “Mel…blokes…the diamond…s..sorry...nev…” His eyes rolled back in his head as he lost unconsciousness. Mel yelped, shaking his shoulders harder.

“Glitz! Glitz, wake up! _Sabalom_! Doctor!”

The Doctor hopped over the crates boxing the old smuggler into the corner, and reached down, feeling for a pulse. “He’s alive, at least. Blow to the head it looks like. I don’t like the threadiness of his heartbeat. Jack, give us a hand here will'ya?”

The Time Agent nodded and picked his way through the slime on the floor, then reached down and helped the Doctor haul the unconscious Glitz to his feet, slinging one of his arms over his neck. The Doctor took the man’s other side. Mel led the way to the medical bay, palming the door open and stepping aside to let them ease Glitz onto the bed.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

Her lungs felt like they would burst, and her heart was pounding so fiercely she was sure it could be heard by her pursuers. Martha didn’t know if she’d ever been this frightened – nay, terrified, in her life. Sure, traveling with the Doctor always seemed to throw her into trouble, but most of the time the TARDIS had been dumped into trouble that involved aliens with claws, laser guns, take-over-the-world attitudes, etc. But it was all advanced technology and concepts she was used to. It was a very different thing when the enemy had primitive, projectile weapons that fired small metal shrapnel that could do who-knows-what to your body when they hit.

Unfortunately, as a doctor, Martha did know.

Martha scrambled up a rock in the darkness, feeling for footholds, and ducked into a small alcove, pressing her body against the smooth, sun-warmed surface. She waited in suspended agony as the seconds ticked by, turning to minutes, stretching into what felt like hours, flattened against that rock, the carved points of the diamond in her pocket digging into her leg. She forced herself to breath normally, inhaling and exhaling slow, soft breaths, regulating her heartbeat and calming her panic. And she listened.

The angered voices and the sound of footsteps on the rocky surface of the planet were getting ever closer. She crushed herself even closer to the rock, if that was at all possible, and held her breath.

Then, they stopped.

And began to move away.

Martha didn’t release her breath until the noise of the two thugs had evaporated from the night. She let it out in a shaky, relieved sob, and slid down the rock face to sit, curling her knees to her chest. Pent up terror and adrenaline released itself from her system, and she broke down, stifling her ragged sobs in the fabric of her sleeve. She let herself cry for a little while, though the passage of time was impossible to tell properly. When the shock wore down, she took a deep breath to relax, sniffing and wiping her eyes dry. The Martian glanced around, mentally reviewing her assets.

That’s what the Doctor would tell her. Review her assets, work out her stratagem, and act on it.

She managed to drag a grin from the frozen wastes of her mind, and plaster it onto her face.

Assets . . . assets. . .

The smile didn’t stay long. Apart from a fantastically sized diamond and herself, she had nothing.

She shivered, and suddenly realized how cold it was. She didn’t even have a coat.

Of course, the cold was something she was used to, coming from Mars.

But, she reminded herself, this wasn’t Mars, and she had no idea how cold it could get on Nebati-16 when the suns set. Wrapping her arms tighter around her body, she tucked herself into a crevice in the rocks, where the sandstone could radiate the heat it absorbed from the day, and keep her warm.

In the morning, she could find the Doctor.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

It was an ugly room. Everything was a sterile, dead shade of white, turned to an unhealthy cream color by the dim twilight glow of the room lights. To top it off, the room was far too small, permitting no ease to the claustrophobic atmosphere at all.

A single cot was inlaid to the far wall, pushed up against it as though trying to escape –which was more than could be said for its occupant.

Sabalom Glitz lay on the clean sheets, his head and neck swaddled in white gauze and his left arm splinted against a hairline fracture, with no sign of life other than the slight rise and fall of his chest.

And, perched on a small stool by the bed, Melanie Bush seethed quietly to herself.

The pupils in those emerald eyes shrank dangerously as she contemplated the low-life scum that had dared to do something like this her partner.

 _If I find out who did this,_ she thought, hands clenching and unclenching like an angry cat, _I’ll kill them. I’ll skin them while they’re still alive, and barbecue their large intestines on an open fire while they watch…assuming they even had large intestines…or skin for that matter…_

Suddenly, she sighed, as a wave of hopelessness swept over her. She felt like so…helpless, out of her depth. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced since –since –, well, since the last time she had traveled with the Doctor.

 _This is all his fault,_ she found herself thinking pettishly, and then refused to believe she’d even _thought_ that. The Doctor wasn’t in any way involved in what had happened; hell, they hadn’t even known he was alive, let alone in Denabi. Glitz had been the one to have the “accident”. If you could call it an accident – Mel was willing to bet a substantial chunk of her year’s wages that this was deliberate. Someone had set out to injure, if not kill, Sabalom Glitz.

“Damnit, Glitz,” she murmured, breathing a deep sigh. “You just couldn’t _listen_ to me. I told you making deals with anyone in Denabi was dodgy…foolish to think that we could evade trouble, even delivering vegetables…but you had to….oh Glitz.”

Her voice hitched as she dug unshed tears out of the corners of her eyes, and looked at the sleeping smuggler. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, Glitz. I still need you around, you hear?”

She tried to steady the waver in her voice, but it was failing.

“So don’t loose this fight. I still…I…oh hell.”

Mel hiccuped as a small sob forced its way past her defenses. She was a hardened space pilot . . . she shouldn’t be crying like a little kid!

Apparently though, her body wasn’t in the mood to listen to her brains reasoned protests right now. A tear slid down her cheek, tracing a pale trail down her dusty cheek.

Something touched her arm softly, and she jumped.

“Didn’t know you cared so much, sweet’art.”

Spinning to face the bed, Mel let out a gasp as Glitz’s good hand fell back onto the bed-sheet with a weary half-smile. Just the smile sent a stab of panic through Mel –there was none of his usual cock-sure bravado. She laughed shortly through her tears, though, thumping him gently on the arm.

“Don’t…dare scare me like that again, you old brute. I might have to kill you myself.” She scolded fiercely. He let out a breath of a chuckle.

“My dear Mel, that would be aberrant of you, non-violent sort like yourself…”

She smiled, brushing the tears off her cheeks and squeezed his hand tight. When she spoke, she kept her tone soft. “You worried me…the Doctor wasn’t sure of the severity of that concussion. Glitz, what happened?”

“Head’s hard as rock, me…” He managed a brief, wry smile. Then he frowned, closing his eyes in pain. “Don’t remember much really, it’s all kinda fuzzy…was going to drop off the diamond-”

“What diamond?” Mel interrupted, then winced and patting his arm apologetically, indicating he should continue. Glitz smiled weakly and sifted through the foggy memories, telling her about the Katseye, the deal with the Larias family, and the fight with the two intruders that had put him into such a condition. When Mel told him that the grey box they had found was empty, Glitz recalled there was someone else…a girl, tied up. Probably bait. Mel frowned.

“What did she look like?”

“Medium height…dark skin, hair, definite not a local…” Glitz groaned. “God my head….I heard…the men yelling before I blacked out completely…something about the girl…and the diamond. She took it, I think…350 grotzits gone.” He smirked, but his smile faded as he noticed Mel’s deeply troubled look.

“What is it?” he asked, slightly alarmed.

She glanced at him and frowned, then patted his arm and rose. “Nothing, don’t worry about it. Just rest, ok Glitz? I’ll get you something for your head.” She murmured gently, and left the small quarters, shutting the door behind her softly. Then she set off at a rapid pace to the flight deck.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

“I am under strong belief that Martha Jones was in our cargo hold last night, that she escaped in the fight, and that she now has possession of one of the rarest and most expensive and sought-after jewels in the entire Nebatian solar system,” Mel announced in one rapid-fire breath the minute the cabin door slid open.

The Doctor and Jack gaped at her in confusion.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

“You let her escape?”

The voice was calm, reasonable. In fact, it was slightly too calm. K’ran and L’tral looked nervously at the vid-cam. They knew from previous experience that when something went wrong, it was a bad thing. When something went wrong, and the employer remained cool as a cucumber, it was a very bad thing.

The interview was going exceptionally badly.

“Well, see, the thing was boss –”

“Silence.” The man’s smooth accent didn’t even change pitch, but his tone was enough to freeze L’tral’s excuse where it stood.

“I will give you one last chance to answer sensibly,” said the man, and K’ran felt a profound gratitude that he had not spoken first. “You let her escape,” he asked in a voice that would have left a supernova feeling chilly. “Is that correct, or not?”

“Um,” said L’tral intelligently.

“It weren’t our fault sir, she got loose. That idiot who pilots the ship put up more o’ a fight then we expected.” K’ran plead, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “And she slipped out in the fight; by the time we took care of the old man she got too much of a lead on us and vanished in the darkness.”

“Is that your best excuse?” asked the dark man from the view-screen.

K’ran and L’tral nodded miserably.

“You,” said the men poisonously, “are idiots. Worse, you are incompetent. I could forgive a lack of brains, but you two are not merely stupid you are useless.”

Even then, he didn’t yell, didn’t even raise his voice. He didn’t need to. His eyes, cold as chips of blue ice, told them everything they needed to know, and none of it was good.

L’tral, looking at the image, felt a sudden overwhelming desire to be a bank clerk, or a builder – anything else that would never put him at the receiving end of their employer’s ire. Without so much as raising a fist, he conveyed the unmistakable impression that they were a hair’s breadth from being casually executed, and replaced with more competent henchmen.

They were only too glad that they were safe in the confines of their shabby little bunker, and he was…hopefully somewhere floating in a craft in orbit. If not, K’ran was sure they wouldn’t have lasted past the first word.

“I am paying you a great deal of money,” said the vid-screen image, “and despite this, you still cannot locate one simple, stupid, primitive female ape!”

For a moment, the mask slipped, and the man’s blue eyes flashed – and both henchmen felt something they hadn’t felt in a long time.

Fear.

This man was furious. Not seeing red, or incensed –he was angry in the same deadly cold way that a Great White shark was when it took off most of your leg before you even realized you weren’t alone in the water.

The dark man glowered murderously. Any big game hunter would have been running for their lives by now. “Along with the Katseye diamond. What’s more, the ‘old man’ was left alive; you should’ve killed him when you had the chance. You do realize he can identify your pathetic excuse for hides.”

L’tral gulped. “I told ye, K’ran, we should’ve taken care of him beforehand.” K’ran shot his partner a warning look and smiled pleasingly at the figure on the screen.

“Sir, I’m sure you can understand…you’re a rational man, yes? The temperature outside is far too low for any Terran human to withstand for very long. That’s why we had to return ourselves. When day breaks, we shall return to the wasteland and hunt down her body. It shouldn’t take long at all.”

For a long moment, no one spoke. The air seemed to hang heavy in the two mercenaries’ throats –it was an effort even to breathe.

Any sign of anger had vanished from the man’s features. L’tral somehow found that even more disturbing than his previous fury.

When at last he spoke again, his voice was even as ever. It also had about the same amount of reassurance to its tones as the purr of a panther waiting to strike. “If you fail me again, I shall add your worthless corpses to my collection. I promise you that.” The vid-screen snapped off with a fizzled pop.

L’tral groaned and crossed his arms over his chest, exchanging a nervous look with his partner.

“I dun dare doubt his word.”

K’ran shook his head silently in agreement, and shivered.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

It took all of fifteen minutes for Mel to recap what Glitz had told her, adding in her own suspicions along the way. The Doctor absorbed it all with an unusual silence, pacing back and forth across the grilled floor of the small craft’s flight deck in agitation and thought.

“So, facts, what do we know?” He asked rhetorically, once Mel had finished. “Fact 1 – we’ve got two guys with an aim to put a hole through Glitz’s head. Fact 2 – they needed Martha for something, otherwise they wouldn’t have grabbed her off the streets. Fact 3 – they’re obviously working for someone, because no plan this convoluted could’ve been thought up by a pair of street thugs.” He halted his pacing, taking a breath. “Fact 4, and this I’m rather worried about, they don’t know who Martha is. This is very bad.”

“How so, Doc?” Jack questioned, perched on the armrest of the main flight chair. “I mean, if they don’t know her, and they probably don’t know you, it should make it easier to find her. They won’t expect your involvement.”

“And no earth human could survive out in the wastelands for a night without protection, the rumor says, but Martha’s from Mars. Far colder, right? She should be alright; they won’t be looking for her as hard if they think she’s already dead.” Mel added, crossing her arms in a nervous posture. “After all, corpses don’t...get up and walk around…much.” The Doctor looked towards them with worry darkening his expression.

“If they don’t know who she is, or who I am, then they’re likely to shoot her on sight if they do find her alive. Sometimes it’s handy to be a companion when being hunted by an enemy of mine; at least they have the decency to use you as bait.” He shot an apologetic look at Mel. “But these fellows don’t know the name of Doctor to be anything more then an earth healer, so we suddenly have a race on our hands.”

There was an ominous silence as everyone took in exactly what that could mean.

Mel stayed silent for a moment, memories casting a shadow on her eyes. Then she sighed, and rose from her seat. “Alright; here’s the plan-”

“Since when have we ever been able to follow a plan?” the Doctor jested quietly, before shushing under a look from his former companion. She continued.

“You and Jack head out to the rocks to search for her. Jack, take Glitz’s blaster; he won’t need it. There should be enough charge left in case you run into trouble. You can use your gizmo wrist-comp thing to trace the structure of the diamond; it’s the only crystalline object out there, I assure you. And Doctor?” She hesitated, and sighed. “Be careful out there. You may not be, but these guys are most definitely armed.”

“And what about you?” Jack asked, checking the power level on Glitz’s blaster, which had been slung over the back of the flight chair. He strapped it around his waist and smiled at the comforting familiarity of the harness. Mel sighed, a note of sadness in her tone.

“I’ll stay here. Someone’s gotta keep an eye out for Glitz. They might come back to finish him off.”

 _And I’ll die before I let that happen,_ her eyes told them, and the Doctor could never have doubted her. He nodded, and gave her an encouraging grin. If anyone came looking for an easy mark, they would have a few surprises in store.

“Give em hell, Mel.” He pulled her into a tight hug, and she smiled wistfully as they left the flight deck. Then her expression hardened, and she grabbed a second blaster from under the console panel, cocking it to readiness and slipping it into the holster at her side. Satisfied, she grabbed a bottle of painkillers from the medikit, and headed back to her injured partner.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

“Beautiful day,” Jack murmured, as the twilight blue of the Nebatian sky was touched with the faint gold rays of the binary star the planet orbited. He spared the sight only a moment’s recognition before sliding down the sandstone structures that made up the mountainous landscape of the wastelands. The Doctor was already far ahead of him, scrambling over the rocks like a mountain goat.

“Martha!” He shouted through his cupped hands, his voice echoing off the rocks in the morning silence. Jack winced; if their competition didn’t know where they were before, they sure did now.

“Doctor, you’ll give us away if you keep howling like that.” He reprimanded, huffing slightly as he caught up. “Those goons are probably still out here and-”

He never got to finish his sentence. He caught a glimpse of a bulky figure perched among the rocks before the double-crack of a firearm split the dawn air in rapid succession. The Time Agent let out a yelp, his leg buckling beneath his body, and the two men tumbled down the small slope into a gully.

“You were saying something about goons?” The Doctor remarked dryly, turning to Jack, and his hearts caught in his throat.

Jack’s handsome features were contorted with pain as his hands wrapped around his calf, clutching it so tightly his fingers were white.

Which was a stark contrast to the rest of him.

The Doctor’s eyes widening in shock as he watched the torn material of his companion’s trousers turning a dark crimson…far too dark, and far too much of it. Jack smiled a weakened, crazed grin.

“Well, at least we know what they’re using for arms.”

“Jack, you’re BLEEDING. I highly doubt this is the time for jokes!” the Doctor snapped.

“Nonsense, this is the perfect time for jokes. They say humor is good for the soul.” The man shifted his weight to his better leg and withdrew his blaster, firing off a couple of shots in the direction of their attacker. At the very least, it’d make them think twice about coming any closer.

“Well, with all due respect for the Time Agent’s fortune cookie variety of wisdom,” the Doctor grunted, trying to pull Jack out of the line of fire without exposing his unprotected back, “I don’t think it’s your soul we need to worry about right now.”

“Well, that’s good,” Jack managed. “Cos, last time I checked, you were a Doctor, not a priest.”

They were exposed as a nudist’s backside, on the middle of a rugged hill, with a ruthless mercenary closing in on them…

The Doctor took another look at Jack’s leg, and added something else to the odds stacked against them.

If he couldn’t find a way to staunch the wound soon, there was every possibility he would bleed to death.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

Martha was not in good shape. Her usually mocha complexion had faded to a sort of dirty cream with the chill, and her bright eyes were dim with fatigue. Every single tendon of her body was jostling for her attention, giving off the steady ache familiar to all those who have ever slept rough.

And it didn’t get much rougher than Martha’s night. It turned out the nights on Nebati-16 were not just colder than Mars, they were a _lot_ colder. She hadn’t got more than a few hours of sleep that night –fear of gunmen and freezing to death had kept her on her feet, either stamping to keep warm, or to move to a new patch of cover.

At first light, she had gathered together the bruised and weary bits of body that made up Martha Jones, and headed for the main city.

She had walked slowly at first, muscles stiff and complaining incessantly about the cold and harsh conditions she had exposed them to. Then, she had heard gunfire in the distance, and her muscles had suddenly decided to pipe down and concentrate on getting her so-far intact body as far away as she could.

Of course, she had no idea that those shots were coming from the exact same guns that had put her in their sights only the night before.

Her fingers felt frost-bitten though, even after that, and she blew on them in a fairly futile attempt to warm them up, as she sneaked along the fence lone under the cover of the not-quite darkness.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

Mel had given Glitz a sedative to help him rest, and returned to the cockpit, watching the external scanner sweep their position for the thirteenth time. A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she halted the panning, turning it back to a figure lurking along the wall. It moved too lightly and was far too small, so definitely not a man. She peered closer, then gasped, flying out of her chair and racing down to the cargo bay.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

“Martha! Martha Jones! Over here!” A voice caused Martha to start and she jumped, flattening herself against the wall. Then she noticed a woman with curly red hair waving at her frantically from the cargo bay door of a familiar looking ship. The Star-Striker, said the name on the side.

Martha gasped – it was the ship from last night! She glanced around warily before sprinting across the yard. The stranger grinned with what seemed like relief.

“Thank goodness you’re alright, the Doctor and Harkness have been worried sick about you,” the woman said, introducing herself as an old friend of the Doctor, Melanie Bush. Martha recognized the name from the mutterings of her captors, and hurriedly began explaining everything she knew, including her capture, the fight, and how Mel was in very great danger standing in the open like this.

“And they said they were after this,” she panted, pulling the Katseye out of her pocket and pressing it into Mel’s hands. “I took it, but your partner, I didn’t see what happened to him. Where’s the Doctor, is he alright?”

“My partner and the Doctor are both fine, Martha. Your two friends went out to search for you in the wastelands. I can raise Harkness on his wrist-comp from the cockpit and call them back.” Mel gestured for Martha to enter the cargo hold.

The click of a pistol’s safety cap made them freeze.

Martha could feel her heart stop beating as she turned around and found herself staring at the barrel of K’ran’s Colt B-76.

“Well, well…fancy meeting you here, Miss Jones. And Miss Bush as well, what a lovely surprise. It’s such a shame we couldn’t all…get to know each other a bit better.” He smiled pleasantly, and squeezed the trigger.

**_BANG!_ **


	9. Pilot Mel

Martha stared at the gun.

The gun stared back at her, the empty barrel like a vacant eye. As if in slow motion, she watched it swing slightly upwards to level with her head.

Martha had wondered sometimes, when she got into one of her contemplative moods, what it would be like to know that, between on heartbeat and another, your life would just cease. Now she knew.

She suddenly found herself aware of her body, her senses heightened to the _n_ th degree. She could feel the adrenaline pumping around her body as she suddenly realized that she was about to die.

The alien’s finger tightened on the trigger.

Her whole body froze. She couldn’t have moved, even if she wanted to.

Then, suddenly, everything seemed to snap back into normal speed.

Mel moved forward with the speed of a wolf, grabbing K’ran’s arm that held the gun and aiming the barrel down and away to the ground. The bullet ripped from its confines in a blast of fire and ignition dust and grazed the man’s leg as it buried itself into the dirt. K’ran let out a cry of pain, and a second as Mel knocked the gun from his grip. The weapon clattered away over the shipyard floor as the pair wrestled for domination.

Martha shook herself out of her shock and stumbled back, watching the fight with fright and awe. Her hand groped around, found a fair-sized piece of pipe, and she gripped it tightly, biting her lip as her mind worked furiously for a plan.

K’ran shoved Mel away with a punch to the gut. She gasped, doubling over with a grimace of pain. He sneered and moved forward, holding his hand level for a deadly chop to the windpipe.

But he had forgotten about Martha, who brought the pipe down with all the force she could muster on his back. He grunted and staggered, falling to the dirt. Mel grabbed Martha’s arm and tugged her back.

“Come on Jones!” She barked, pulling her along, and the two women raced for the shelter of a nearby shuttlepod. They were meant for short trips between the different planets of the Nebati system, built to withstand the constant friction of the lower atmospheres, but not for deep-space travel. It was just as well. Mel didn’t plan on doing any deep-space traveling.

The programmer shoved Martha into the airlock doors as K’ran recovered his pistol and fired off a few rounds behind them. Mel slammed her hand onto the door controls and breathed a sigh of relief as the bullets winged harmlessly off the metal surface.

“That should keep him out for a little while at least.” She panted, grinning with the thrill of adrenaline in her system.

“What if he decides to get his own shuttle-thingy and blast us to bits while we hide out?” Martha asked weakly, pointing out the cockpit window. Mel turned to look, swearing something particularly unpleasant in a language the TARDIS refused to translate. K’ran had hotwired a skimmer nearby with amazing speed, and Mel could see the weapons pods already powering up and locking onto their position.

“Good point Jones.” She climbed into the pilot chair and punched a few buttons, scowling. “Cripes. I really should brush up on my Nebatian shuttle control systems. Power, power, come on, where’s the pow – ah HA!”

The hum of the shuttle engines made the craft shake around them as they slowly lifted off the ground, and Mel laughed delightedly. “Now we’re in business! Strap in and hang on, Martha Jones! I have a feeling we’re in for a bumpy ride!”

Martha scrambled into a seat in the back and tugged the belt straps around her body tight. The pod rolled as K’ran’s ship fired off a shot across their bow, and Mel’s glee turned serious as she banked the equivalent of a steering wheel to a hard left. The shuttle shuddered and angled into a spiral up and away from the shipyards, and Martha gasped as the inertial dampeners neglected to eradicate all of the G-force, the acceleration tugging her against her straps.

And on their tails, K’ran’s skimmer floated up, and joined them in the aerial chase.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

The gunfire in their direction had died down, and Jack surmised that either their assailant was out of bullets, out of patience, or out of his mind and lurking in wait for them like some sadistic spider in a web. He checked the power levels on Glitz’s blaster and scowled as the glowing red meter informed him of a feeble 15% capacity left. Jack growled and shoved it back into its holster, turning his attention to his leg.

The Doctor stared open-mouthed in utter shock as Jack poked a finger through the blood-soaked hole, and then ripped his trouser leg open, examining the perfectly healed skin underneath.

“Y’know, I really _hate_ getting _shot_.” Jack groused. “It always makes such a ruin of my clothes. I _liked_ these pants.”

The Doctor wasn’t sure if he wanted to murder Jack, kiss him, or smack himself into the next regeneration for forgetting his companion’s special abilities. He chalked his worry and momentary amnesia up to the heat of the moment, and settled for relieved sarcasm.

“At least it’s not yellow spandex, Wolverine.” The Doctor chided, hiding his embarrassment and relief behind a mask of annoyance. “You’re lucky that wasn’t permanent. We didn’t exactly have medical supplies on hand.”

“Says the man with the entire flea market of Bora-9 in his jacket pockets; you just snark because you’re jealous,” Jack replied with a smug grin, testing his weight and drawing his gun again, peeking up from their hideout. He could just see the glint of the sunlight off the burnished metal of the thug’s gun.

“Guy isn’t doing too well at hiding.” He remarked, nodding his head towards the tell-tale sign. “I think if I move a bit that way I could clip him -” The agent started to move, but the Doctor grabbed his arm.

“Put it away Jack. I’d rather find another way.”

Jack gave him an incredulous stare. “Doctor, he’s out for our blood, and you want to _talk to him_?”

The Doctor grinned lightly. “Why not? I’m known throughout the universe for my ability to prattle. I’ve talked down Daleks with nothing more then a sonic screwdriver up my sleeve. One gun-toting mercenary is a piece of cake after that.”

“I think the sun has made you touched in the head, Doctor.” Jack replied tersely, before he blinked. “Wait, sonic screwdriver?”

The two men exchanged a _well- **duh**_ look, and the Doctor pulled the anachronistic metal tube out of his pocket, fiddling with the settings. He shoved a finger in his ear, cringing as the device began to whine on a frequency just slightly too high for normal humans to hear. Their attacker wasn’t a normal human.

“Nebatians can’t stand certain frequencies, even the humans who terra-formed the less desirable planets.” The Doctor explained, as the pitch of the sonic screwdriver rose, the power boosting to reach a wider range. “It’s a bit unpleasant for us, but it drives THEM completely insane!” He grinned manically, a smile Jack echoed with trepidation and his fingers in his ears.

Their effort was rewarded with an anguished howl of pain somewhere near the top of the gully. When they climbed back up the rocks, they found their lone gunman, L’tral, doubled over with his hands clamped over his ears. Taking careful aim, the Time Agent fired, and the red glow spread over the man’s body. He shuddered and collapsed to the ground. The Doctor was livid.

“JACK!”

“I set it to stun, Doctor, don’t worry. He’ll be out for a few hours.” Jack holstered the now depleted blaster. The Doctor frowned and relieved L’tral of his pistol, checking the safety and removing the remaining bullets before the gun disappeared into his coat pocket. He paused, tilting his head curiously.

“What’s that noise?”

They both glanced towards the settlement, and ducked instinctively as the roar of twin engines passed right over their heads. An interplanetary shuttle, followed in hot pursuit by a Denabian skimmer, with all weapons charged.

Jack stared, and gave an unexpected grin.

“Well, that’s something you don’t see every day.”

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

“Turn back!” Martha shrieked, grabbing onto a hanging supply net as the shuttle swerved violently to the side to avoid a volley of laser fire from the pursuing skimmer. “Mel, turn back, that was the Doctor back there!”

“I know, I saw!” Mel replied, grating her teeth as she pulled their small craft into a dive, trying to shake K’ran off their tail. “Little busy at the moment to stop and _chat_ though! Leave your name and number after the beep! Whoa!” The shuttle was thrown into a roll as one of its swept-back drive pods was clipped. It was minimal damage, probably disastrous in the long run, and far too near a shot for her liking. She cursed the lack of offensive systems on board and threw the shuttle into a dime turn that pulled Martha’s stomach into her throat.

Mel glanced at the myriad of buttons before her helplessly for a cloaking device of any kind, and found something slightly more promising. She hesitated for only a moment.

“Jones, get up here!” She commanded, pulling their craft out of its death-roll and leveling it straight. K’ran’s skimmer was having a harder time turning, and she needed to come up with a plan before he started shooting again.

Well, a better plan then the one she already had in mind.

Or at least a backup plan for the first plan, which was inevitably doomed to fail. Lesson 63 learned while in the company of the Doctor: plan A never works, or at least not in the way you hoped.

Martha scrambled into the passenger seat in the cockpit and on Mel’s instruction grabbed what looked like a radio box. “What do I do with it?”

“Frequency TW 2006, zed-zed-alpha 19-89-6-7-10!” Mel chanted, pulling the shuttle into a sharp climb as K’ran’s craft shot past them. “If we’re very, very lucky…”

Martha tuned the dial and the power crackled to life. “Dare I ask what your plan is?”

“Engines took a hit, they won’t last much longer. I plan on taking this son of the Rani down with us.” Mel replied succinctly.

Martha stared at her in horror.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

With L’tral secured with a bundle of zip-ties the Doctor had procured from his pocket, the Time Lord and his companion watched the dogfight with alarm. The two ships seemed evenly matched, and neither one was pulling ahead of the other.

Over their heads, the shuttle suddenly swerved, and headed straight for the skimmer. The high pitched scream of engine failure split the air, and the skimmer tried vainly to turn, but the shuttle caught the back end of the drive pods and the skimmer’s tail burst into flames.

The Doctor realized what was inevitable a split second before Jack did.

“Jack!” He tugged the man’s arm urgently. “Get under cover!”

Grabbing L’tral’s jacket, they dragged the unconscious thug into the shelter of a sturdy boulder and ducked for cover as the skimmer hurtled out of control and veered towards the ground, erupting in a violently beautiful fireball.

Jack stared in horror at the smoldering wreckage. “Good god. No one could’ve survived that.”

“I don’t think anyone did.” The Doctor replied, gazing at the billowing black smoke grimly. Then he turned his attention back to the skies and the shuttle that still circled above.

Jack’s wrist computer bleeped and he glanced down at it. “Short range transmat activation?” he muttered curiously. “Way out here?”

The injured shuttle whined its death cry as its pilot tried to level it out for a relatively safe crash, but at the last moment, it bucked its fins sideways and took a header into the rocks, skidding along the desert landscape before slowing to a smoking halt.

Slowly, the Doctor rose from his crouch, and started walking slowly towards the disabled craft. It looked familiar, now that it wasn’t hurtling about at full speed. Like one of the shuttles that had been parked near the Star-Striker. There was no sign of life stirring, no battered pilots staggering from the wreckage or movement behind the glass of the cockpit window. In fact, no one was aboard at all.

The Doctor didn’t want to say he believed in ghosts, but no autopilot program could’ve maneuvered in the sky in the way he’d seen, especially not on a shuttle meant for space travel.

Glitz’s words echoed back in his head.

 _“Did I say anything about her actually_ leaving _? Best damn co-pilot I ever had.”_

“Oh please let me be wrong. Please, please, please….” He muttered, frowning as he climbed onto the twisted wing of the craft, and pulled the stubborn door open, ducking inside. His suspicions were confirmed, and his hearts twisted with dread, as he found Martha’s jacket thrown carelessly across the passenger seat.

Mel and Martha had been on board during that aerial battle.

So where were they now?

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

“Martha…”

Martha was still shivering, her fingers curled tight into the fabric of Mel’s flight jacket. Her eyes were shut tight. She was dead, she had to be dead. She had seen the ground swell to meet them as their engine gave out; her ears were still ringing with the shriek of mechanical death.

“Martha, you can open your eyes now.” That was Mel’s voice. Mel had done her best to pull them out of the final dive, but in the end, she couldn’t pull up fast enough. She had pulled Martha into a hug and punched a button on the controls, and the world had exploded in white. Mel had died too.

“Martha, let go of my jacket. You’re not dead, trust me. Open your eyes.”

Martha cracked an eye open slowly, and blinked in the bright sunlight. The bleak wasteland landscape stretched before her eyes. The dark pillar of smoke emanating from K’ran’s demolished craft was rising into the morning sky barely a quarter of a mile away.

“If there’s a God, he has a lousy sense of humor,” she remarked hoarsely. Mel laughed softly and disentangled herself from the young woman’s grasp.

“Short range transmit beam,” she said by way of explanation. “I activated it just before the crash. You alright?”

“I think so,” Martha winced, rubbing some feeling back into her knees, “Nothing a long soak in the TARDIS Jacuzzi won’t cure.”

Mel looked mildly surprised. “I thought that got jettisoned with the pool,” she remarked wistfully, earning a surprised look from her companion. She grinned and helped the girl to her feet. “C’mon. I think we’d better find the Doctor and Harkness.”

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

“Melanie! Martha!” The Doctor called, cupping his hands about his mouth to help the sound carry. He couldn’t help but remember that yelling for his companion had kick-started the day with a hail of bullets. He wasn’t very amused with the irony of the situation.

“Martha!” Jack roared, his voice bouncing off the canyon walls. L’tral sulked at Jack’s side, prodded every so often by the business end of his gun – Jack had conveniently neglected to let the troublemaker know that it was out of power.

“Me-el!”

“Can anyone hear me?!”

“Doctor!”

“Doctor! Jack! Over here!”

The Doctor spun on his heel as he suddenly heard two new voices join the ruckus.

His face split into the biggest grin this side of the Smilodon’s home-planet. Martha was sliding down a dune, followed by a battered but exuberantly grinning Mel.

As soon as their feet touched solid ground, they raced towards the two men. Martha laughed breathlessly as she launched herself into the Doctor’s waiting arms, and he scooped her up in a tight bear hug.

There was a bare instant’s awkward pause, as Mel, a few paces behind her, slowed to a halt. The Doctor had his companion back, and it seemed to cheer them both, but it only put an ache in her chest. He wasn’t her doctor anymore, not the one she used to travel with. She started to move away.

It didn’t go unnoticed by the Doctor though, who had put Martha’s feet back on solid ground after twirling her about. Sliding his current companion into the crook of his left arm, he held his right out for Mel, his eyes lit with a special smile…just for her.

“C’mere you. Think I’d leave you out?”

Mel hesitated; her smile was small at first, and then it grew, until almost seemed to split her face as she flew into the Doctor’s arms, clutching him tightly and wrapping herself in his arm. Martha smiled, and slipped out of his grasp, wandering over to Jack.

“Don’t I get a hug?” asked Jack in mock-pettishness, but neither of the space veterans heard him. Martha did though, and thumped him on the arm, grinning as she hugged him around his waist. He grinned and returned it warmly. “Good to have you back, munchkin.”

“That,” said the Doctor into Mel’s hair, “is the last time I let Glitz teach you how to drive.”


	10. Loose Ends Tied

“Jack?” Martha noticed a speck of blood on his shirt. She frowned. “Is that…blood? Are you injured?”

Her eyes followed the smear down to his ripped trouser leg, and her eyes widened in alarm. “Were you SHOT?”

A fraction of a second later, Jack turned away…not quickly enough.

 _Think fast,_ he ordered himself. _Think very, very fast._

He coughed and smiled reassuringly.

“Just a flesh wound courtesy of our friend here. The Doctor managed to find a container of nanogenes in his pocket, so it’s all healed up now. No worrying about me.”

She scowled at him. Martha wasn’t dumb. She knew you never trust anyone who says “trust me”, you never expect plan A to work, and you never, ever trust Jack when he smiles reassuringly.

“Nanogenes my foot”, she said bluntly. **“** If that bullet’s still lodged in there it could turn septic and infected and very highly unpleasant. I’m taking a look at it when we get…back...- what the HELL is he doing here?!” Her eyes had flickered past Jack and zeroed in on L’tral’s scowling face. The thug jumped.

“Watch yer tongue missy, I ain’t through with you.” He spat, growling through a split lip. The intimidating effect was rather crushed, however, by the zip-ties around his wrists. “Where’s the Katseye?”

“Incinerated,” Mel replied tartly. She disengaged herself from the Doctor’s arms and stalking over, pulling out her blaster. The low hum of the energy weapon powering up was distinct as she pressed the barrel up under the man’s jaw. “I jettisoned it in a magnetic container that crashed and burned with your partner’s ship. Now, you are going to tell me who in the twin suns sent you after us, or so help me I’ll pull this trigger. The effects of a point blank charge even at the stun setting can do wonders to the humanoid brain.”

L’tral glared darkly back, his expression of self-confidence waning only slightly. “You wouldn’t dare.”

She clenched her teeth and shoved the muzzle harder against his skin. “You put my partner through the ringer. Try me.”

The Doctor knew Mel. He knew she would never do anything so violent. He was one hundred percent certain…well, eighty percent. Okay, sixty percent. Maybe fifty.

Anyway, he was fairly sure Mel would never just kill a man.

It was still a little unsettling to watch. “I’d listen to her if I were you.”

L’tral’s eyes darted nervously between Mel’s fiery glare and the Doctor’s collected gaze.

“I…we…never got a name. Or a face really, he kept it in shadow whenever he contacted us via vid-screen.” He finally stammered out. “And the transmissions were always bounced off of a dozen different relay points. I dun really understand much of it; K’ran was the tech-savvy.”

“Nothing else?” Mel pressed.

“I swear on K’ran’s grave, nothing else. Look lady, I’ve cooperated, and we’s didn’t do much to your boyfriend back there, how ‘bout letting me goes, aye?”

A rush of anger overtook the redhead’s better judgment and she slammed the guy into the rocks, squeezing her finger tighter on the trigger. “Didn’t _DO MUCH_?” she hissed, “Why you arrogant-”

“Mel!” The Doctor’s hand gripped onto her gun arm, firm but not painful. The air hung thick with tension for an agonizing few beats of his hearts. His hand remained steady on her arm, feeling her tremble with the rage and pent-up frustration boiling beneath her surface.

“He’s not worth it, Melanie. Let him go,” he said softly. She tensed, her eyes darting uncertainly between the focus of her revenge and her old friend’s gentle words.

Then, slowly, Mel sighed. Her body sagged, and she relinquished her weapon to the Doctor’s grasp without resistance.

“No…it isn’t,” She agreed softly. “Glitz was right; I’m not the violent type.” Taking a deep lungful of air to steady herself, she stepped back. L’tral breathed a massive sigh of relief, and started to move away from the rock.

That was when Martha decked him.

With a punch that would’ve made Mohammad Ali proud, she brought her fist back and launched it with all the force of a force three hurricane. The man hit the dirt with a howl, clutching his bound hands over his bloody nose.

“That was for the overkill use of trichloromethane and methyl trichloride, you sadistic piece of post-mortem Galiraut excrement!”

She grinned with a satisfied grimace as she massaged her wrist, shaking it loosely to relieve the tingling pain that the impact had caused. Then she paused, once she took notice of the others’ shocked – and in Jack and Mel’s cases, approvingly awed – stares.

“What? Oh come on. You might not be the violent type Mel, but he had it coming,” she justified defensively.

“Youb libble bidth,” L’tral raged from the dirt. “Youb broke my nobth!”

Jack hauled the unfortunate man to his feet and told him to suck it up, flashing Martha a grin. “Nice punch, Jones.”

Martha echoed the smile. “I learned from the best.”

“Have you now?” The Doctor cast Jack a suspicious look, but the Time Agent just shrugged innocently.

Taking a quick consensus, the group started back to Denabi, prodding L’tral along ahead of them at gunpoint. The walk was punctuated by Martha’s retelling her harrowing adventure of being kidnapped and how she managed to escape, perhaps with a bit more embellishment on her own part then what actually occurred. Once back in the settlement, Jack took the liberty of hauling L’tral into the nearest security force outpost, while Mel led the way back to the Star-Striker.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

Glitz’s sedative had worn off some time earlier, and to Mel’s relief looked and sounded a whole lot better after a few hours of proper warm sleep, when the three time-travelers returned to the ship. Naturally he was rather disgruntled over having missed out on the fun.

“I still wish I’d gotten a chance at the crukked idjits,” he complained as Mel bullied him into staying put in bed while Martha worked her professional magic by checking his head and properly splinting his fractured arm. “They only caught me off guard in the hold is all, I wasn’t ready for them.”

“We know Glitz, we know. Next time I’ll let you take out the whole battalion of thugs next time you make a dangerous deal behind my back.” Mel’s sweet smile promised pain; Glitz quickly shut his mouth and stopped whining about the subject, turning his attention to Martha’s work and praising the young medical student on her adeptness.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

The Doctor was in the cockpit when Mel left her partner and the good doctor at last, using his sonic screwdriver to repair a few tattered wires that had posed a danger. He looked up as his old friend heaved a heavy sigh and collapsed into her chair, casting him a weary smile.

“What a day, eh?”

He ghosted a grin over his features and flicked the screwdriver off, slipping it into his breast pocket.

“Kidnapping, murder threats, plots to foil, ships to crash – all in a day’s work really. Like old times.” He grinned brightly as the remark elicited a short laugh from the girl in the chair.

“Yeah; let’s not do it again real soon.”

They chuckled in unison for a few minutes, before quieting. Mel sighed and leaned forward, checking a few of the instruments to fill the awkward silence. She jumped slightly when he spoke again.

“Mel, that was some pretty amazing flight skills out there,” he remarked. She could hear the unspoken ‘ _but_ ’ in his tone. “You nearly gave me a hearts-attack when you pulled off that last stunt. I thought for a moment I’d lost you both...but Martha mentioned something about a short-range transmat…?”

Mel grinned sheepishly. “Something I cobbled together. A computer program beamed directly from the Striker here; if the ship’s computer is in range, I just punch in the frequency and it transports me and anyone close to me to a nearby point.”

His brown eyes were thoughtful and dark with concern. “And if you hadn’t been in range?”

She stilled, and met his gaze for what seemed like eternity. In those eyes she could see the last Doctor she knew; past the hope and the brightness for life and the gentle nature, there was deep concern, and fear, for her.

“Then we would’ve crashed in that ship. I’m not a child anymore, Doctor; I’ve seen things even you wouldn’t believe. I’m not afraid to die. But I’m sorry for taking such risk with Martha on board.”

The Doctor nodded silently, and looked away, considering the repair work he was concocting. Then he sighed, and smiled his familiar toothy smile.

“Always forgiven, my dear Melanie. Y’know, I think I may have a replacement for this tertiary power coupling stashed in the TARDIS. Either that or I lost it at Villengard. Did I tell you about Villengard? Used to be a big weapon’s factory, but there are banana trees there now. I like bananas. The French court at Versailles found them fascinating, though I probably shouldn’t have introduced them to the banana daiquiri…”

Mel couldn’t help but laugh.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

The cover of nightfall was all he needed. A silencing blow to the neck, hand clamped firmly over the guard’s mouth, and the keys pilfered and left in the archaic bolted lock, and he was free.

L’tral scoffed the poor enforcement policies of the backwater little spaceport as he slipped quietly towards the landing bays. The law was too ruffled by the Larias family to bother with a lowlife thief like him, which was perfect. Made disappearing into the shadows all that more easy.

The humming rumble of engines and the soft voices of passers-by wafted softly into the night as people came and went, and the man lingered hesitantly for some time. He wanted revenge. He wanted retribution, for the Katseye, for K’ran, for everything they had taken from him.

No…

He wanted a drink. He wanted to get good and plenty plastered until he couldn’t see straight for more then a few feet. He wanted to wake up with a gaping hole in his memories, and maybe it would take away the pain K’ran and that little whelp with the wicked right hook had left behind.

Thrusting his hands deep into his pockets the brute skulked off towards the Cantiana.

The low murmur of the bar showed just how much a difference there was in customer traffic at night, and L’tral was grateful for it as he slid into a stool at the far corner of the bar, and muttered an order of the most soul-numbing liquor they had. He was technically a wanted man, and some tosser might decide the prospect of a reward would be sweeter then a knife to the gut.

Not that he had a knife on hand.

The bartender set the glass of murky blue liquid down in front of him, along with a small white napkin (did they really care about drip-rings that much in this rat hole?) and L’tral picked it up, draining the glass in a single foul swoop. The liquid burned like fire down his throat, and he coughed, relishing the punishing haze. He set the glass down and gestured for another.

Then he noticed what was on the napkin, scrawled with a delicate script and plain as the bleeding moon.

_You were warned._

The note was unsigned, but L’tral felt a deathly chill grip his stomach just the same. He stood up hurriedly, knocking over his stool, and turned to flee the bar as fast as he could.

At least, that was the plan. He even managed to make a few staggering steps before the poison took hold.

He fell like a dead weight, as the cold tightened, spreading through his body like the black nights in Denabi.

Grasping for a nearby chair, and missing entirely, he collapsed to the floor.

The world spun, blossoming into a multicolored atrocity that made an acid trip look like five shades of gray.

Then, slowly, the swirl of colors faded away into darkness. There was no one to see the look of pain and surprise frozen on L’tral’s face.

And no one heard the low chuckle that echoed in his ears as he took his last breath.

**Ooo---oOo---ooO**

In a dirty, second-rate bar, someone recognized the body of L’tral, the wanted criminal, and turned it in for the reward.

All the doctors’ could tell (not that they tried very hard) was that the draught was extremely expensive. After that discovery, the matter was quietly dropped.

So no one ever did find out who had slipped him the poison that ended his life. But if the Doctor had been there…well, it might have been a different story.


	11. All's Well That Ends...or Does It?

“Thanks for your help,” said Mel, slopping the soggy mop into the bucket of disinfectant soup. “I would’ve had a horrid time cleaning this place up. Since poor widdle Glitz is so invalid and wounded.”

She glanced over her shoulder and pouted playfully at the man in question, who was leaned against the loading cart, his cast arm strung up against his stomach. Glitz smirked back at her in the way he always did, and she grinned a bit more sincerely. It was good to see him more or less back to normal.

Martha smiled wryly as she scrubbed at a particularly stubborn spot of dried slime plastered on the cargo hold floor. If she didn’t know better, she’d have said Mel and Glitz…

“No trouble,” she said, reining in her speculations. “This is nothing compared to what they made us doing back at the University Hospital. Mountains of bedpans, as far as the eye could see.” She wrinkled her nose and sat back, stretching her back. “Anyways, after patching folks up, I’m not really much help. Jack’s the technical one, when the Doctor lets him be.”

“That was my area of expertise,” Mel remarked, gaining a curious look from the dark-haired girl. “Computer programmer,” she explained, leaning on the mop handle. “Not that I did much computer programming with the Doctor. When I first knew him, he could be a bit…”

“Arrogant?” Martha supplied helpfully. “High-and-mighty Time Lord with a stupid ape tagging along? He likes to insult species when he’s grumpy,” she hurriedly elaborated, noting Mel’s surprised look. Mel and Glitz laughed.

“I was thinking more…bombastic and self-absorbed. He had an ego that liked heavy petting.” The smuggler snorted in amusement, and waited for Mel and Martha to stop choking on their giggles. “He seemed to have mellowed out after his regeneration, when I saw him again on Iceworld.”

“Regeneration? What; like a mid-life crisis for Time Lords?” Martha asked naively, picking a piece of lettuce leaf off her borrowed coveralls.

Any explanation Mel would’ve given the young companion was halted as the wheezing groan of the TARDIS engines filtered into the open hold. The three turned around to watch the anachronistic Police Box fade into existence, nestled between a stack of crates and a pile of old engine parts. Mel grinned wistfully, closing her eyes to savor the sound for a moment before sloshing the mop across the floor again.

The door to the time-spaceship swung open, and the Doctor stepped out, giving the navy paint job a fond pat as he shut the doors, and bounced up the loading ramp.

“Well, the stabilizer is fixed. And I found that part you needed for the navigation system, Glitz. Two spares, actually; lucky break there. Where’s Jack?” He handed over the part and glanced around expectantly for the Time Agent. Martha shook her head, getting off the floor and dusting off her coveralls.

“He avoided my attempts to see to his leg for the better part of an hour after I patched Glitz up, said something about seeing a lady about a spanner, and disappeared into town about half an hour ago.”

“Good, good. I can have him fix this up to the systems before you take off,” the Time Lord nodded absently, fiddling with the spare. Mel smiled knowingly.

“I can feel the itch in your feet, Doctor; you never did like sticking around after the fact.”

The Doctor stopped fidgeting and looked guilty, as Jack came jogging up from the road, slowing to a halt with a concerned look. “Hey guys, they found L’tral’s body last night in the bar. The medical officer’s ruled it as poison, and pretty sophisticated stuff too. They reckon it’s the stuff the Larias family likes to use.”

The others looked at him with worry.

“If that’s the case then maybe we otta get moving…” Glitz said, rising his feet with a stiff groan and walking down to join the group. “I doubt we’ll be very popular around here, Mel my dear, if the Larias folk decide to get retribution for the loss of their diamond.” He draped his good arm around her shoulders. She blinked innocently.

“Lost diamond? What lost diamond?”

“The Katseye. Y’know, the one you said got ejected and disint…egrated…Mel, you’re hiding something from me, I can see it in your eyes.” He narrowed his eyes at her cracking facade of aloofness.

“Ooooooh. You mean this diamond?” She flashed him a sweet, devious grin, and produced the crystal from a pocket on the inside of her jacket. Glitz gawped at her, somewhere between suitably impressed and infuriated, and at a loss for words in either case.

Jack grinned impishly at Mel. “You guys – I don’t think I’ve seen a cuter couple, all snarking at each other when you’ve got an audience…” He wagged his eyebrows suggestively, grin only widening as Mel’s eyes flashed in insult and Glitz hurriedly removed his arm, having a sudden, convenient cough to deal with. Martha hid a smile behind her hand.

The Doctor whistled and tugged out his black-rimmed glasses, pushing them onto his nose and leaning in to inspect the sparkling gem. “Blimey, I can see why some might want to kill for this thing. It’s absolutely perfect. Jack,” he waved a hand at his companion absently, removing his glasses and tucking them back into his jacket pocket, “take a look at this, all the facets are perfectly cut. Not a scratch, not a scrape, not a side out of place.”

“Go on and keep it, Doctor.” Mel held it out to him, smiling at his confused look. Glitz made a funny sort of strangled noise.

“Mel you can’t be serious! Y’know how many grotzits that thing’s _worth_?”

“Yes, Glitz. Exactly why I want you to take it, Doctor; it’s too much of a temptation for Glitz, too much of a prize for us to keep. There’d be a lot more folks then just the Larias family after our blood if they got wind of the diamond’s continued existence. Take it, hide it a cave at the end of time or something. Make sure it’s safe.”

The Doctor grinned knowingly, and nodded, taking the crystal from his old friend’s hand. He hesitated, the briefest of curious looks going unnoticed across his face before he slipped the diamond into his pocket.

“I guess this is…goodbye, then.” He smiled sadly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Rassilon, I hate that word, goodbye; it’s too final for me. Au revoir, now that’s a good one, means farewell. Or maybe-” He hesitated, and then stopped, looking sheepish at the bemused looks he was getting all around. “Sorry.” He looked at Mel. “Sure I can’t tempt you, one more spin around the galaxy? The old girl’s changed quite a bit since you left…”

Mel, for a moment, gazed at the TARDIS, the desire sparkling in her eyes, old memories rising to the surface. Then, she shook her head, looping an arm through Glitz’s. “No, Doctor. If I stepped through those doors again, I don’t think I could come back. And someone needs to look after this lump.” She thumped Glitz’s arm gently with a watery smile. “I’m glad I got to see you again…for what it’s worth.”

“Oh Mel, it’s worth more then all the treasure of the universe.” He grinned brashly. She chuckled and stepped forward, the two old friends embracing in a fierce hug.

“Take care of yourself, Melanie Bush,” he whispered into her hair, giving her one last squeeze.

“You too, you old dog,” She murmured back, fighting tears as she released him. Glitz took her arm gently, and led her back towards the Striker. As they stepped inside the cargo doors, she turned around, and smiled a wry grin, raising a hand in farewell as the doors slowly groaned shut. The Doctor raised a hand in mirror, and smiled.

“Au revoir, old friend.”

The wind whipped up around them and Martha shielded her eyes against the dust as the Star-Striker’s engines powered up, lifting the ship gracefully from the ground. Then, with a booming roar, the retro burners fired, and the craft soared into the clouds, spiraling away like a gossamer bird of prey.

“Mel really is a good pilot,” Martha remarked, watching it disappear into the sky. “Probably wasn’t you she learned her skills from, then.”

She expected an affronted but good-natured retort to the teasing remark, but the Doctor was silent. She glanced at him curiously, and was taken aback.

The Doctor was looking down at his pocket with an expression somewhere between confusion and disbelief –as though he wasn’t sure if he was remembering something right.

Moving with almost clumsy haste, the Doctor pulled the diamond from his pocket, and held it close to his face. Without moving his gaze from the jewel, his other hand pulled out his glasses again and swung them around in front of his eyes.

“Doctor,” said Jack slowly. “Is everything alright?”

The Doctor’s face had gone almost completely white, his freckles standing out in shocking contrast.

“It can’t be,” he muttered.

“Can’t be what?” asked Martha, staring in a mixture of alarm and awe. “What’s going on?”

Her question went unanswered. With reverential fingers, the Doctor rotated the diamond. It caught the sunlight as it turned, and seemed to illuminate with a dazzling glow.

“It’s so beautiful,” she breathed.

“I’ll say,” confirmed Jack. “What’s going on, Doctor?”

When the Doctor finally spoke, his voice was hushed, and almost hoarse. “I knew I felt…never thought I’d see…never thought I’d hold…what are the odds…”

“Odds to _what_ , Doctor?” asked Martha, completely exasperated now. She couldn’t see what he was so incredulous over –it was just was just a diamond after all.

Okay, a spectacular, perfect diamond that seemed to be glowing even as it left the perfect refraction point he had held it in. But still, just a diamond.

The Doctor blinked, and noticed for the first time Martha and Jack’s worried expressions.

He smiled, and Martha thought it didn’t look like his usual smile at all. It was a mad grin that seemed to fill his entire face, showing a world of possibilities.

“I never thought I’d see one of these again,” he said, and there was something in his voice that was both awed and nostalgic, as though he was looking back into the past. He held the gem up to catch the light again, and it glowed even brighter.

“Martha Jones, Jack Harkness,” he paused, taking a deep breath, as though unable to believe what he was about to say.

“This…is a piece of the Key to Time...”


End file.
